Another Fireball From the "Freeman": Schooner Days MLIV (1054)

by C. H. J. Snider

FROM a long-time member of the crew of Montye Macrae's good schooner Anitra, Walter N. Moorhbouse, M.R.A.I.C., comes this Passing Hail:

Thanks for your saga of the first Freeman Cup Race and your tribute to Charlie Freeman.

It brought to my mind the picture of a group in the lounge in the old temporary club that is, the one story building after Sproatt's beautiful club house had been burned down. It must have been late in the fall of 1920 — we stowed later and rigged earlier in those days — because there was a big log fire burning and we weren't any too warm at that.

Most of those present whom I remember have since crossed the bar — Cara Mia's crew, Jack Gordon, Norm Smallpiece, Jimmy Bell, the writer and Mac Kennedy who was the cause of it all. I'm sure Tom Wade was there (because he was always there) and Don Bremner, and Spike Heywood and of course, Charlie Freeman (a bachelor then and living in the Annex) sitting quietly in the corner, the only uninterested party, one might have thought. Mac Kennedy was not only a fine sailor, but looked unbelievably like a sailor, so much so, that I was sure he figured later in a group of British Seamen rescued from the infamous "Altmark", but though I haven't heard of him for many years, that was rather unlikely.

However, Mac was riding his hobby that night — "not enough discipline and ship's husbandry among the young members and little knowledge of navigation or log keeping — all right on triangle racing courses perhaps, but that was playing at sailing -- what we needed was long distance cruising and night sailing to teach to young idea." etc., etc.

Tom Wade, I'm sure, had some sound suggestions and the discussion waxed and in a pause as it waned, Charlie Freeman silent-up until then, said: "I'll give a cup for a cruising race like that." That I believe was the origin of the famous race.

Just one other point — on the night of the famous race from Hamilton to Kingston, my recollection is that Jim McMurray was at the wheel of the "Haswell", and when the storm struck, he sent one of the crew below to get the Skipper's permission to pull the topsails. Jarvis' reply was: "We're racing. Don't shorten anything,"—and turned over in his bunk, for it was his watch below. What a man the Commodore was! How many storms he weathered!

I have a very vivid picture of that wild dawn off Presqu'ile. Bernice was in-shore of us and I can still see her dip and lift in the tumbled seas, with green water sousing over the spidery figure (Dick Joyce, I think) crawling forward to back the jib to pull the ship out of irons. This gained us about a quarter mile lead — Cara Mia is a witch in a choppy sea — and we even gained on Bernice — a thing to boast about when Norman Gooderham was at her stick. Beyond Peter Point light, however, the sea eased a bit, and the size and power of Bernice began to tell, ending in her three minute victory.

That was indeed a memorable race, balls of fire and all, and out of the whole fleet, only four of us at the Kingston Yacht Club the first night and one after making a brief but enforced stay on the rocks near Snake Id.

Long life to "Schooner Days."