ADRIAN MORGAN

CHARLOTTE WATTERS

Vertue signalling

Two keen owners signal the virtues of their Vertues

Ihad the pleasure of another Vertue owner visit Sally recently; drove up from Skye to compare his pre-war boat with mine, although we both were well aware that the pre-war Laurent Giles boats were simply 5 tonners, all different, from gaff-rigged Andrillot through Monie, Epeneta, Mary, Caupona and so on. Even the post-war wooden boats were essentially one-offs.

The visit gave us a chance to compare notes. Ah, says he, your coachroof is just a low box, showing me a photo of his. And the runners are set on Highfield levers. I see you have boom furling. Does it work as well as slab? And so on for an hour or more on the pontoon at Ullapool Pier.

His companion, by this time – I kid you not – had fallen asleep as we discussed the various merits of wood-burning stoves, berth widths and Danforth vs CQR anchors, in cramped Sally’s saloon. Or, as I recalled when I first went below in his boat years ago, Spartan, which, given a hurt look, I hastily corrected to “beautifully simple” accommodation.

And thus the morning whiled away; two old Vertue buffs, oblivious to all but the minutiae of our boats. “I broached Much was left unsaid, common ground, but there was the topic of the inevitable story of how at some point our boats had the boat’s chanced upon an unsuspecting glassfibre production yacht – words spat out like pips – several feet longer and, worth like a much to the owner’s dismay, slowly overhauled it. Yup, shy suitor we agreed, those slim wineglass sections are slippery. at a party” As for our Giles 5 tonners – careful not to use the V word on these rare pre-war boats – in a gale: unanimously, the stronger the wind, the happier. Well, until the toe rail dipped, when it was time to reef. At which there was some debate about whether we furled the mainsail down to the first set of spreaders, before changing the yankee for a working jib, or vice versa. Whatever combination, again, we agreed that our respective boats were entirely vice free, and would balance with the merest touch on the tiller, in all conditions. With Vertue signalling now over (to the relief of those readers who have endured so much of it over the years) I suspect it’s the same when a colloquy of Contessa owners gather or Hillyard, Harrison Butler, Gauntlet owners, and Robert Clark or for that matter Triumph, MGB, Riley, Audi or, dare I say, jetski owners, albeit comparing horsepower, decibel and disturbance factors. I broached another topic, tiptoeing round it like a nervous suitor at a party, before plucking up the courage to ask: how much do you reckon yours is worth, with an added “not that I have any intention of selling Sally, of course”.

We both agreed that old wooden boats, even those as faultless as ours, are for sailing, not laying down like vintage champagne. “But then if I did decide to sell her it would have to be to the ‘right’ person,” I added, “prepared to look after her,” picturing a clone of my younger self, when first I saw her on the Hamble, 25 years or so ago, but much, much wealthier.

My friend exchanged looks with his companion. “I reckon you just have to let go. You can’t choose who buys her.” You can, of course, steer someone who is clearly unsuitable away from an unwise decision, perhaps by pointing out some unknown problems, he said. Such as, I ventured, the cost of replacing keelbolts to a buyer who had no idea old boats had such things? “Exactly.”

What worries me is the fate of the crammed folders of documents, letters from previous owners, photos, the Blue Book, the original invoices from Elkins in 1937. How much irreplaceable provenance has been cast aside over the years as boats change hands, leaving CB’s Nigel Sharp the frustrating task of piecing it back together, hard facts interspersed with vagaries such as “Her immediate post-war ownership is a blank, but we know she was laid up at Moody’s...” etc. There should be a national archive, not only of the great and good, but also modest little 5 tonners.