When Tom Adams was told to pack his skin tight jodhpurs and depart at the end of the series, the ship was sold off. The ship had been configured for the needs of the cast and crew of the series. Instead of the usual sealed sea toilets, ordinary flush toilets had been fitted. There was also the problem of the bowsprit, the figurehead of a buxom lady. This jutted out in front around twenty feet or so. The water was a little choppy as the newly installed owner approached the harbour as captain on his maiden voyage. A cross wind and a choppy sea had the long bowsprit scribing huge figures of eight as it approached the opening in the harbour wall. At the end of the harbour wall stood a solitary, slender lamp post. The weaving sprit managed to hit the post dead centre. Remember the flush toilets? They weren’t built to seal off the surge of water which shot up the outflow as the bow rode up the wall. The more the water poured in, the lower the stricken vessel settled. Within minutes the ship sank to the bottom. Across the entrance to the harbour! Because of its position the rescue teams turned out immediately, raised the ship and towed it to dry dock. Where the wrangling started.
John was left to do the business. Talking to the Harbour Master at Chichester he found another wannabe ship owner. That made four. John, a sailing friend of his called Peter, the Harbour Master and me. A barrister friend heard about our plot to become maritime and wanted in. Wonderful! So he began to look at the paperwork. He came back with all sorts of problems. Not least was the disputed ownership. Even Peter began to have second thoughts. Then our friendly Harbour Master had the wind taken out of his sails by someone whispering in his ear that the Stina was Salvage and therefore owned by the company which had raised her. In the end we all had to agree that perhaps it wasn’t worth the hassle. John tried to soften the blow by saying that there were always great bargains coming up and he would keep his eyes open. I wasn’t interested in any other boat. I had fallen deeply in love with the muddy old Stina Sapoo.
I checked up on what had happened to her some time later and was told by a member of the Medway Ports Authority that she was “in a sinking condition.” What a waste of a wonderful dream.
