Geoffrey Jenkins: A Ravel of Waters

'To compete with powered vessels, she has to have a service speed of between ten and twelve knots on any voyage,' he replied. 'But make no mistake about her speed — potential speed, I should say. She can achieve twenty-two knots in a Force Nine gale. On any point of sailing she is at least sixty per cent faster than the great old-timers like the legendary German nitrate five-master Preussen. She is a flier, born and bred. That rig of hers develops no less than forty thousand horse-power in a Force Nine gale — about two-thirds of the thrust of a World War II light cruiser's turbines. Shaped alongside well-proven four-masted barques, Jetwind develops up to one hundred and eleven per cent more driving thrust. To evaluate Jetwind's design, we carried out hundreds of simulated crossings of the Atlantic, in both directions. We found she would average from ten to twelve knots eastward from America to Europe, and eight to nine knots in the opposite direction.'

'What about calms, doldrums? Not even Weather Routing can stop the wind from not blowing.'

'In a flat calm Jetwind has three small auxiliary dieseis of five hundred horse-power each. They will drive her at eight knots and can also be used to power the hydraulic mechanisms for the masts and sails and to supply electricity to the ship. She also has powered bow and stem thrusters for manoeuvring in port. Jetwind can spin on a dime, using them in conjunction with her own sails.’

Don asked, 'Doesn't the screw act as a drag when she is under sail?' 'No,' answered Thomsen. 'It has a variable pitch and is housed in a nacelle which is retractable when not in use. It is as different a concept from the old auxiliary as her sails are from a clipper's.'

I said, 'Jetwind sounds magnificent — as a computer print-out. Things that work in a wind-tunnel don't necessarily work in a Southern Ocean gale.'

As an answer, Thomsen threw down a photograph in front of me. It was an aerial shot of Jetwind leaving harbour, taken from above her port bow. It was an exciting, novel sight, as beautiful in its own right as any classic clipper. There were six towering masts with gleaming light alloy yards. White dacron sails were snuggled to each other to form an unbroken quintuple aerofoil the full height of each mast with hardly any space showing between them. She had a lean hull painted dark green with a gold stripe. There was not a crew man to be seen.

'Does that look like a paper ship?' Thomsen's voice was abrasive.

'I've never seen a rig like that,' I said. 'I wonder, though, how she steers without jibs or staysails…'

'You don't seem able to get the image of old sailing ships out of your mind,' he snapped back. 'Can't you see, man, she is new, new as tomorrow? You're saying what a thousand sceptics said when I originally planned Jetwind. Every ship-owner I approached for financial backing said, "It's all very nice, but…" Hell, man, don't you feel what Jetwind represents? The new age of sail!' He went on, his voice rising. 'I've backed this hunch of mine to the time of twenty million dollars. I tell you this, Rainier, if Jetwind is a success I intend to build a fleet of Jetwinds. Five more. I'll show the doubters! Five more — that means I need financial backers — and backers have to be convinced.'

Why, I asked myself, had Thomsen flown to Knysna to meet me? It wasn't as if I could offer him backing. My total assets were a few sea-damp clothes in Albatros*s locker.

'What happened to Jetwind's attempt on the Montevideo-Cape record?' I asked. 'I last heard of her in Montevideo as Albatros staged down the South American coast for the Horn. Radio news has been out since I cleared the Falklands.'

The muscles round Thomsen's mouth went taut. 'Get me another drink, will you, Don? I need it. So you haven't heard about Jetwind, Rainier?' 'No.'

'Then let me clear the decks, so to speak, before I answer your question. I built Jetwind as a commercial proposition. I built her in the firm belief that she can compete on near equal terms with steam or motor ships. Her maiden voyage was planned to be a shop-window promotion. I selected a route on which one can be pretty sure of the wind — Montevideo to Cape Town. Just right for bulk cargoes — wheat, maize, ore, coal. It is also short enough to hold the public's interest — three thousand, six hundred and twenty nautical miles. It used to take old-time windjammers twenty days. I gave orders that Jetwind was to do it in thirteen. An average of almost twelve knots.

‘Jetwind made the run from the Channel to the Equator in fifteen days — as good a time as any accomplished under sail. She made another good run from the Line to the River Plate — as she bloody well should have done, with the wind and the currents all in her favour down the South American coast.

'I had a first-rate skipper in Mortensen. If any skipper was capable of demonstrating Jetwind's mettle, it was him. I'd given him strict orders not to open her up until he got on the Montevideo-Cape leg. The ship was also in the process of shaking down, although she had only minor teething troubles — nothing to worry about. Mortensen said she handled sweetly, a real thoroughbred. He was happy with her.' 'Was?' I asked. Thomsen could not control his agitation. 'Mortensen is dead. Everything has gone wrong since.' 'What happened?'

Thomsen lit another Perilly, but threw it away before he had taken more than one deep gulp of smoke.

'Jetwind's attempt on the record caught the public imagination — the media's likewise. Every pressman, radio commentator, TV camera eye, was upon her, I had arranged a grandstand finish here in Cape Town. In anticipation of it, I flew out a dozen of the world's top shipowners to meet the herald of the new age of sail. And now, here they are — waiting! One of them, Sir James Hathaway, is travelling with the ship. He is a sail enthusiast. If he backs me, the others will follow like sheep. Sir James wanted to see for himself how Jetwind handled at sea. Now…!'

'I guess ship-owners are more conservative even than sailors when it comes to accepting innovations,' I said. 'I know how I felt when I was first confronted with the Venetian Rig.'

'Mortensen got away to a flying start from Montevideo…' Thomsen went on.

'I saw it on TV,' said Don. 'She looked splendid coming out of the River Plate.'

'Looked!' exploded Thomsen. 'She could have looked any way she liked, so long as she had performed!' 'What happened then?' I asked.

'Mortensen was killed, that's what! He chose his wind carefully for the start and the expected ongoing weather for the Cape. Jetwind took off like a bomb. In three days she logged a thousand miles. Then he was killed.' 'How?'

'I couldn't — haven't — got any details from anyone about how it actually happened. Jetwind has one of the finest communications systems afloat. With Mortensen, all I had to do was to pick up a phone anywhere and I could speak to him. All I can make out is that Mortensen was killed in some kind of an accident involving the sail furling gear.'

'But from what you've told us, any competent officer should have been able to press the right tit and sail her.'

He spun round and glared at me, and I saw how really touchy he was.

'I wasn't trying to be funny,' I added. 'You obviously had good back-up men under Mortensen. What was to prevent them taking over and bringing the ship on to the Cape?'

He replied in a kind of snarl. 'I hand-picked every goddam one of them. Including the first officer, Anton Grohman.' 'Grohman? His name rings a bell.'

'He made the headlines during the last round the world yacht race. One of the boats was sinking off Brazil. He was nearby, and rescued the crew in his schooner.'

'Now I remember. From what I recall, Grohman did a terrific job.'