Chapter 27
Shortly after becoming a member of the Royal Yacht Squadron, and officially becoming ‘a gentleman interested in sea yachting’ I, or rather RYS Lady S received a gold embossed invitation to partake in an event from the first Saturday after the last Tuesday in July, until the following Saturday, in plain English it was ‘Cowes Week’. The regatta had first started in 1826 so the organising committee had had more than enough time to get its act together, and so clipped to the back of it was a note:-
‘Would I be interested in becoming the start line for this, that and the other events - the finish line for a few more - the host for this, that and the other receptions - etc, etc, etc, and if I had time to spare, would I like to ‘light the first firework on Friday’, (I gathered from the wording that there would be a few more sparklers to follow it).
P.S. perhaps you might like to arrive the Wednesday before the first Sat.... etc for the briefings.
As the ‘note’ was signed by the Admiral himself I quickly twigged that it wasn’t a request, it was more along the lines of a ‘Royal Command’, and as I didn’t want to end up in the Castles dungeons I RSVP’d:- ‘Sounds good to me , see you the Wednesday before the first ..........’.
Breena and I duly arrived with RYS Lady S on the appointed day, and it was throwing it down, but we quickly realised that rain was not a consideration when organising a sailing regatta, reception, BBQ or firework display where the grotty yachtie fraternity were concerned, it was just a minor inconvenience. ‘Is it’ was the usual reply when I mentioned it in passing, water pouring down my neck. As this was Breena’s ‘outing’ I decided to ease her gently into it, until HRH’s mum decided to pop in un-announced for a cuppa and a quick look round. As I said to her (Breena not ‘his’ mum), I was thrown in at the deep end, and all I ever kept repeating to myself, over and over again in my mind was, ‘it doesn’t matter if I mess it all up, I’m still richer than they are’ (well apart from one or two). It was ‘organised chaos’, but in the end it all went swimmingly, quite literally for a lot of the participants (it was blustery as well as wet), but at least the rain stopped for the fireworks.
We (I like the word we) left Cowes Saturday lunchtime, waving to shed loads of new friends and set sail for Portsmouth harbour, although it wasn’t very far away, we could see it, which was very fortuitous as my (sorry our) First Officer and eleven of my permanent crew were not on board, although they hadn’t gone AWOL on the Isle of Wight, they had been press-ganged. As we followed the shipping lane towards the harbour mouth we paused to embark two Royal Navy Merlin helicopters covered in Hunter green paint (complete with gold stripes), ‘very pretty’ I thought, and they were quickly pushed into the ‘shed’ out of harm’s way. As we entered the harbour all manner of ships piped us, tooted us and generally made strange noises at us, but we couldn’t hang about gossiping, as the saying goes ‘tide and time wait’eth for no man’, and in this case it was the tide, we were about to enter HM Dockyard Portsmouth’s ‘tide-less basin’. As the tidal water in the Harbour reached the same level as in the basin, the caisson separating the waters was removed and the Lady S slipped in. Once safely inside, the caisson was replaced, and it was ‘GOTCHA’, and RYS Lady S became HMY Lady S (it must be very confusing for her). She had been commandeered; she was now Her Majesty’s Yacht Lady S, although I knew all about it, I had lent her to HRH for his hol’s. Of course it wasn’t just for his holidays; it was for a Royal visit or two, and for the past month or so Lady S’s jetty at El Campo was more along the lines of HM Dockyard San Miguel. I had taken HRH up on his not so subtle hint, and was going to ‘lend’ him the Lady S for about eight months all told. The Royal Navy would provide the crew for her, and as per HMY Britannia of days of old, the Yachtsmen, Senior Rates and Officers would be the best of the best, although I was pleased that my First Officer and the eleven of my crew that were reservists had all been re-activated for the duration, it wasn’t as though she would be in the hands of total strangers. The new crew had started to arrive a month ago and had been shadowing my crew ever since, although I was a bit confused over Robert my First Officer; he was suddenly called ‘Jimmy’ (the nickname for the First Lieutenant of a RN ship). After Carol had eased her alongside, and she was securely tied up, Breena, myself and my crew disembarked onto the jetty where Rear Admiral ‘Hank’ Williams RN, whom I had first met after my contra taunt with the Pirates off Somalia was waiting (it is traditional that an Admiral be the ‘Captain’ of the Royal Yacht) along with the new crew of HMY Lady S, it was time for her commissioning ceremony, although I had quietly warned Hank that any dents and the repairs would come out of his pocket, although they should really come out of Jimmy’s, as for the next eight months he was going to be paid twice for doing the same job. The new crew looked immaculate in their Number 1’s - with medals, but what got my eyelids fluttering was the fact that they all had the Royal Yacht flash on their right arm and the yachtsmen had ‘Royal (royal crown) Yacht’ on their cap tallies. The guard with their rifles flashing and ‘the royal’ Royal Marine band did its stuff, and then the Lady S was a member of the grey funnel line, although she would still remain green. In the next few days she would be moved into a dry dock where something secret would be bolted to her bottom, for security reasons, (I asked what it was, but was told that if they told me – they would then have to shoot me, so I left it at that) and an extra nine coats of paint added to her hull, to give it the ‘Royal shine’. During early discussions with Hank I had asked about any permanent optional extras that might be added to ‘my’ ship, and the only major items were to be the ‘bottom’ sensors, some extra radio bits and pieces, and ECM’s (electronic counter measures), but those bits would be safely locked away when I got her back, and only Jimmy would have the key, paranoia or what.
‘What about me’ I asked, with not a hint of joviality in my voice, ‘it’s my ship after all’, and after a very long pregnant pause it was agreed that I could have one as well , after I had signed the ’Official Secrets Act’. I think that that meant that if I left my key lying around, they could shoot me, and then Hank wondered if I might consider a name change for the Lady S, but fortunately I had done my research, ‘with Royal Yachts of old being called ‘Fubbs’, ‘Kitchen’, ‘Royal Caroline’ and ‘Victoria and Albert’, I could see nothing wrong with Lady S’.
‘Point taken’, change of subject.
‘Do you want me to empty the stuff out of her stern?’ I asked, referring to the sting-er or two.
With a perfect ‘Nelson’, Hank said ‘what stern?’
‘Mind you if you use any of them, you replace them’.
After the ceremony I was ‘invited’ back on board for the party, but it wasn’t the same, for heaven’s sakes she even had her own air force now. The two Merlin’s, which were now ranged ‘ceremonially’ side by side on the flight deck were outfitted almost as swish as my AW109S Grand, almost - but not quite, although to give them their due, mine was not air-to-air missile compatible.
As the Merlin’s had to return to Yeovilton that evening, Breena and I thumbed a lift to Eastleigh airport in one, where we transferred to the Grumman, although I left most of my crew behind, they would now be ‘shadowing’ their Navy counterparts until they were fully au fait with her.
~~~~