~ THE WIND CALLS THE TUNE (part 1) ~ An Eventful Voyage of the 'Nova Espero'

In 1949 the brothers Stanley and Colin Smith built the 20-ft. boat ‘Nova Espero’ and sailed her across the Atlantic from Nova Scotia to England, an achievement which stirred not only those who understand the sea, but the general public also. It was an historic cruise by the man who designed the famed West Wight Potter sailboat.

This video series is an account of the 2nd great voyage in ‘Nova Espero’, from Dartmouth, England to Nova Scotia, undertaken by Stanley and his good friend Charles Violet.

Transcript:
We cast off from the railway pontoon at Dartmouth with an overwhelming sense of finality, we acknowledged the friendly cheers of our friends and many well wishers who had gathered on the harbor front to see us sail.If there is ever a feeling of high endeavor in setting out to challenge an ocean in a small boat, the slightest aura of glory, courage or heroism surrounding the members of the crew, it certainly did not attend our departure.We were depressed and overawed by the prospect before us.
The gentle afternoon breeze gradually died as the sun sank below the beautiful hills above the town.A few minutes after we had cast off, the wind dropped completely.The surface of the harbor took on a restful oily aspect and we were left embarrassed.With Sagging sails only a few hundred yards away from our point of departure, our old friend Ridell, the pilot chugged over to us in his launch, took a line from our Samsung post and towed us out to sea, thus saving us from the possibility of cheers changing to Jeers and.
We were left to fend for ourselves about the mile beyond the harbor entrance.By this time it was dark, and we looked wistfully back to the lights of Dartmouth.With all our hearts, we longed to have the journey behind us.We might now be sailing into port with the joyful expectation of a leisurely few days without care among the sheltering green slopes, listening to the sound of our favorite port echoing across the valleys.But reality soon began to insist on our attention.
The tide turned and we began to drift to the eastward.This in of itself would not have been very disconcerting but half a mile down our line of drift lay a considerable obstacle an obstacle rather unlikely to move out of the way.For us, it was the Mew stone a hunk of rock probably weighing several million tons and shaped like a shattered alligator’s tooth.We had no oars on board as they were not likely to be wanted in the Atlantic so the boat was out of control.Soon as we drifted towards the danger we saw it loom up black and jagged, soaring venomously into the deep, soft violet of the night sky.In spite of the slick glassy surface of the sea a fairly heavy rolling swell slipped noiselessly beneath us and as we approached the rocks we heard the ominous roar as it dashed against the foot of the great mass.If we struck, it seemed likely that the nova would be out of commission for a long time and the voyage end within a mile or two of its start.
We hastily unlashed two bamboo spars from the aft mainstays which we had brought with us to use as spinnaker booms.Then, using these as paddles, began a frantic, agonized fight to get clear.The bamboos were too thin to make much of an impression and Paddling desperately felt like bursting as we quickly burned up our energy.Still, we were not clear.The sweat poured down till our eyes were swimming and smarting but we redoubled our efforts till the blood roared and swabbed in our heads.The strain became more than our arms could bear, and exhausted we subsided on the deck, gulping for air.It was several minutes before we recovered and we sat up to our immeasurable relief.We saw that we were being swept clear by a narrow margin.
After this narrow escape, the remainder of the night was spent in creeping offshore across the western entrance of the English Channel to Yushant, a sinister cluster of islets, rocks, shoals and tide rips, extending several miles off the most westerly tip of France.
The wind increased during the following morning and our log records an unhappy day of cumbersome steep seas with the wind fresh to strong.We would not be surprised if the log forgot to mention that we suffered a few queasy qualms of wretchedness.

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