Free All Piss and Wind by David Salter Page B

assistance. Would we what ? Mr Dubois didn’t have a magic wand – just a lot of engineering knowledge and unique understanding of how the yacht and rig were put together. He agreed to meet us at the boat the next morning when the mast was out. With a borrowed tape-measure and dog-eared notepad swiped from a nearby hotel, Ed then setabout making rough scale drawings of his proposed method of repair. The chart table on Police Car became his temporary design office. To accompany the drawings he wrote out a concise, step-by-step set of instructions for the now-enthusiastic crew who were about to undertake the job.
    Back on the dock he traced out the necessary cuts and drill-hole positions on the mast in blue marking pen. Finally, Ed sat down in the cockpit with Sir James and patiently talked him through the entire operation. Satisfied everyone now understood the modus operandi he surrendered his instructions and rough scale drawings and wished us all luck. Total cost of professional services: one can of lemonade. Dubois is now fabulously successful, designing 140-foot super-maxis for the world’s squillionaires. But 25 years after our Hawaiian adventures he’s still ‘one of the boys’ and sent me a wonderfully warm and funny message for the 20-year Police Car crew reunion.
    Back in Sydney the Zapspar factory was able to source the exact sections of mast aluminum we needed, and in the right lengths. The bad news was that a certain flag-carrying Australian national airline whose name begins with ‘Q’ refused to airfreight us anything over 20 feet on their scheduled passenger flights. Pan Am’s boss in Sydney, John McGee, came to the rescue by offering free space in the very next blue and white jumbo off the rank at Mascot. McGee was something of an eccentric who relaxed by playing drums with the Hilton Hotel jazz band. (We were later told that our precious new mast sections had flown up to Hawaii lying in an aisle at the back of economy class.)
    In Hawaii it was now time for a considered division of labour. Major repair work on any substantial yacht presents logistical challenges. Crewmembers were matched up to the specific tasks that best suited them. My experience as a television producer saw me appointed unofficial project manager, coordinating the various jobs while dashing about in a hire car to track down the hundreds ofspecialised bits and pieces we needed. The collapsing mast had also mangled the mainsail at the luff, tearing through the boltrope in two places. Hardy and I took the damaged sail to the Hood loft in Honolulu and laid it out on their floor.
    â€˜Yeah, we can fix that for you guys, no problems,’ said the loft manager, who rather disconcertingly sported an immense flowing beard but only one arm.
    â€˜Well, that’s terrific,’ quoth Jim, ‘and while you’re at it, I wonder if you might also have time to just take a little bit out of the draft here near the foot? I’ve always thought it was a bit full there.’
    There was no point wasting an opportunity for a quick re-cut, especially when the insurance company back in Sydney was paying.
    There seemed no end to the tasks. Next morning Sir James and I fronted the US Customs depot at the ‘incoming freight’ hangar of Honolulu International Airport. We could see our mast sections on the floor, but soon learned they couldn’t be released to us until a long list of associated paperwork had been completed. While a duo of bored officials launched into their Concerto for Two Fingers & Typewriter , Jim sidled alongside to try some vintage Hardy smooth-talk. You just can’t beat James Gilbert when it comes to a spot of blarney. Before long the forms in triplicate mysteriously disappeared, a forklift was provided to swing the two sections onto the truck we’d hired for the occasion, and away we went, clattering down the freeway to the rigger’s shop.
    Yacht Rigging & Swaging Inc.