The following Wednesday, I sailed East Anglian across, well reefed, with no jib, as it was blowing hard from the south-west.

At the end of the two weeks' meet, I had lost the De Quincey Cup to Eric Freeman in Genetta, and the Challenge Cup to Roger De Quincey in Valiant, and on July 22 we sailed Valiant and East Anglian to Cowes in company with Aquamarine, having just a week in which to fit out for America, as we were sailing aboard the Empress of Britain on July 29.

That week was spent making spars and masts, varnishing our canoes and doing the hundred and one jobs we thought necessary. On Friday 28, we shipped our canoes and gear, including ten spare masts, to Southampton and aboard the Empress of Britain, and returned to Cowes for the night. This gave us a double start, which is useful.

In this case, it enabled us to leave again, heavily laden with gadgets we had thought of since the previous day.

Roger and I left England full of hope, for we hoped that we should win the American National Championship and also their International Trophy, and return with, as well as these trophies, a rule from America that would be acceptable to England, and so unite canoeists of both countries. If we succeeded in obtaining this, a canoeist would henceforth be able to race in both countries without the handicap of having to design and build to two entirely different sets of rules.

The Empress of Britain was most kind to us, and we spent many happy hours in the carpenter's shop, making spare tillers and paddles.

Later, wbilst I made a storm jib, Roger made the brake for his centreboard winch; this brake is Highfield's patent, and due to the smallness of the winch we were unable to buy a brake for it, so, as the oniy way a man can pass to windward of the patent law is to make the article for himself, Roger was forced to make his brake.

Our voyage across was spent very pleasantly, making gear for our canoes during the day, and dancing at night. Going through the Straits of Belle Isle we saw an iceberg, shaped like an old Spanish galleon with a high stem. This did not seem at all out of place, far although it was summer it was very cold, owing to the Labrador Current, which, bringing this iceberg south, gave us food for thought.

Here we were, in the same latitude as the south of England, where it was very hot, meeting icebergs, and not being surprised, this vast difference being due to the ocean currents, for the warmer water of the Gulf Stream. setting across to the British Isles, makes it possible for tropical trees to grow in the south-west of England, whilst the Arctic Current, coming down the Labrador Coast, is the cause of the coldness of that land.

Looking at the high bold land close aboard that morning was painful to our eyes, that for almost a week had been used to looking out into space with an unbroken skyline. Now, looking on this high land so near to us, our eyes found difiiculty in focussing it, and yet for almost a week we had been able to go down, after being on deck, and feel no pain in our heads, when we looked at the good food on our table, which was far closer than the land we now saw.

We arrived at Quebec on August 3, five days out from England, which is very fast time indeed. We left Quebec at 6.00 p.m., and as there was no room for our canoes on this train, they were to leave by the next at midnight.

This gave us six hours in Montreal, in which to find a hotel, turn in, sleep, turn out and meet the canoes. So after a nap at the "Windsor", we met the canoes at 7:00 a.m. and switched them over to the National from the Pacific Railway, arriving at Gananoque junction at noon. We then took a tiny train to the town waterfront, and had our canoes ready for sea by tea time.

Our destination, Sugar Island, was in sight, three miles away, and we were looking forward to our sail there. Just as we were about to put to sea (in the river St. Lawrence) Jack Wright, the Commodore of the American Canoe Association, came along in his launch. He was a friend in need, for we had loaded our canoes right down with suitcases, spare masts and gear, all of which he kindly took aboard his launch, and the three of us made for our tents on Sugar Island, the Commodore steaming in his launch and Roger and I sailing our canoes.

Doing 6 knots, we were soon abreast of the island, with its tents, hills, trees, rocks and sandy bays, and hauling our wind reached past Headquarters Bay, and luffing into New York Bay, were welcomed by Dudley Murphy's wild scream of "Whoopahee", a most unearthly yell, that he had learned from some Indian canoe men who used it as a greeting to other Redskins they met.

Rolf Armstrong had met us in Mannikin, and his canoe, with our two, the commodore's launch, and the other canoes all ready there filled the bay completely. We pitched our tent with the help of about ten others, then put up our beds, and piled all our gear into the tent, suit cases, bags of sails, ropes and gear, till it looked just as untidy as our cabin aboard the Empress of Britain had done, so we felt at home right away. The poor tent did not even have a chance to look tidy.

The commodore invited us to dinner at his tent across the bay, after which we went for a sail in the light of a fullmoon.

The island looked very fine by moonlight, while in front of headquarters' tent there was a huge red glow from the camp fire, with figures passing to and fro in front of it, and the sound of their voices as they sang came floating across the water to us. An island has more charm than any other part of this earth, and this island tonight in the mooniight seemed very lovable, and we were both happy and content as we sailed about its bays. It was to be our home for two weeks, we were to know its trails, live with its people, share meals with them in their tents, sit round the camp fire at night with them singing and yarning, and learn to love them all, for their kindness and open-heartedness. They named Roger and I the Babes in the Woods, and it was very nice to be babes to such people.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day (Saturday) Roger and I dressed in our best, white tops, white flannels, neckties and white shoes, for the flags were to be hoisted, and the camp officially opened. After the speeches, and many kind words, we set sail for Gananoque: Rolf Armstrong in Mannikin, with Roger all alone in Valiant, and Mrs. Rolf with myself in East Anglian. There we ate ices, bought several small tools we needed, and sailed back to Sugar Island, Mrs. Ro1f coming back with Roger, while I sailed home alone.

Sunday was the day of rest, with tea at Squaw Point, where we saw what comfort there could be in a tent. Mrs. Coggins must have been surprised to see Roger and I drink seven cups of tea each, but we thought we should not often have a chance at tea in America.

That night we went to our first camp fire, and the commodore asked me to sing, so I sang "The Bosun's Story",of how he discovered the north pole by harpooning a whale and being towed there by it, and then being knocked back again by the whale's tail. On Monday we all arrived at headquarters' tent with our sails for measurement, and we found that ours were 11 ft. under their allowed area. They were correct on the foot and luff, but the roach had gone out of the leach, due to the fact that a sail is like a piece of elastic, which, when stretched, becomes narrower, although longer, and therefore measures the same area as when made, but in a different way.

Tuesday was our first race in American waters. This was a tuning up race, with a nice breeze, and we averaged 4 1/2 knots round the course. I hit the first buoy, by catching my drop keel on its wire, and so pulling it towards me.

Committees should moor turning marks with chains, but if with rope, they should have a weight 10 ft. or so below the surface to take them down plumb, so that they cannot be caught by the keel of a boat rounding them. In this case, I asked what I should do and was told to carry on, as it was a tuning up race, and we all wanted to see how our canoes sailed, but I should not put any canoe about or take her wind, so keeping clear, I completed the course, and finishing second, reported to the committee, and was disqualified automatically. Ro1f Armstrong was first with Gordon Douglas third and Roger fourth. At this speed our canoes and the Americans were equally matched, below it the latter would be faster and above it we should win.

Flags on mark buoys are not very good as guides, for if dead to windward, or dead to leeward, they are invisible, blowing either directly away, or directly toward, the man trying to see them. Besides this, in uncertain winds they flip out, and often just catch a boat rounding close, and so disqualify her. Here, the American Canoe Association had solved the flag problem in a cheap and masterly way. They had tacked shiny tins or buckets upside down on the buoy poles, and they glistened and reflected the sun's rays like mirrors. On dull days, catching what light there was, they showed up brightly as well, and bing round showed equally well from all angles.

The camp fire that night was to see the crowning of the king of the island with speeches by him, the Prince of Wales, and Knights of the Bath and Garter. Then these were to be impeached, and a dictator appointed for the duration of the meet. I was chosen King, and crowned, which was all very well until my son, the Prince of Wales (George Denhard, the chairman of the New York Canoe Club) spoke, and he rather let me in for things. However it was not long before the dictator was put in power, and then the fun began. The commodore was made privy councillor, and there was a bees' nest in one of the privies. Mayors were made, cabinets formed and everyone was given a job. After this we had a sing-song, and then to our tents and sleep.

Wednesday was the first race for the Admiralty Trophy. The rules for this race stated that one leg of the triangle was to be sailed, and the next paddled, so by doing this we sailed and paddled over each leg of the triangle in two rounds. It was a paddling start, and a race we had not bargained for, so we knew little about it, and as I had never before paddled a canoe, things looked black. They looked even blacker when my sliding seat fell overboard at the start, and I had to go back and recover it. However, at the end of the second leg, which was a sailing leg, East Anglian led the fleet. Then came another paddling leg, and here again I became unbuttoned, for I had stowed my sails, pulled up the drop keel and stowed the sliding seat, and was leading the fleet nicely, with enough lead in hand to hold back the faster paddling canoes of the Americans, when my jib broke adrift, and although it was stopping me as it blew aft, I thought it far better to stow it again, so walked up on the fore deck, and stowed it neatly. Then, coming aft, I forgot the drop keel was up and East Hnghan capsized. I tried to right her by standing on the tiny piece of drop keel, that was showing, but could not do it, so swam round and pushed the drop keel out. Even then I could not right her, so rigged the sliding seat, and with this and the drop keel, she was easily righted, and I was all ready to paddle on, when the paddle was seen floating twenty yards away. This meant another swim for the paddle, but at last we were away again. When the next sailing leg came, my sails were like a prune, being a mass of wrinkles, but halfway through this leg, which fortunately was a beat, the wrinkles all came out, and East Anglian was first round the weather mark, but not far enough to hold one of the faster paddling American canoes on the next leg. She passed me halfway down this leg, and East Anglian could not catch her again on the last reach home, so finished second.

The wetting of the sails, their wrinkling, and then coming as good as gold again after they were dried, showed me the value of using rope for luff and foot, instead of wire, for the rope shrinks and swells with the canvas, whereas the wire remains constant, and so, after a sail has been wet on a wire and shrunk, it is probably stretched unfairly.

That night Roger attended the fancy dress ball in a child's rompers, whdst I was rigged out in a grass skirt from the South Sea Islands, two very nice cool costumes.

On Thursday the Mermaid Trophy was raced for. This trophy was given by Leo Friede for 16 ft. by 30 in. canoes, as he was a great lover of these little canoes, and for years had won the National Championship in one of them, and twice successfully defended the International Trophy in Mermaid, his 16 ft. by 30 in. canoe.

Our canoes were 17 ft. by 39 in., so Roger borrowed a 16 ft. by 30 in. and I was loaned the Damosel, another 16 ft. by 30 in., and we felt very unsafe in these narrow canoes, which, with no one in to balance them, capsized by themselves. However, we managed to sail round the course without capsizing, in spite of the fact that our athwartship tiller fouled the sliding seat. Ralph Britton won in Jonah, Gordon Douglas was second in Nymph, Tyson third in Oske Wow Wow, and I was fourth and Roger fifth.

In the afternoon, the second race for the Admiralty Trophy was held. The wind was very light, and away we went sailing slowly round three rounds of the triangle. For what seemed hours I lay 100 yards off the finishing line becalmed, with the rest of the fleet farther astem, when the time limit expired, and the race was called off.

This night the camp fire was under the care of Dr. Wakefleld, a past commodore, and he built up the biggest fire of the whole meet. The piano was brought out, and many fine songs were sung. The charm of a camp fire lies in the warmth of its light; it is soothing and one looks into it, and dreams pleasant dreams, whilst, when a song is sung, the listeners can float away in their little dream-boats with the singer, for a fire, and the twilight of the fire, stirs a man's imagination.

The sunrise and sunset aare the two most beautiful parts of the day, and their charm is the charm of the fire. Then, too, outdoor people watch the sun rise and set, for then the Lord tells those that understand the weather for the day or night.

Continued....