The course was straight along the island to Stave Island, wind on the weather quarter, strong, so as soon as I could I headed East Anglian out to sea, where, although it was rougher, the wind was stronger and more of a help, as I stood up to paddle with a fair wind. Away we went, white water flying off our double paddles, and the result was that East Anglian finished second unexpectedly, only 30 yards astern of the champion paddler of Canada, and so won the Admiralty combined paddling and sailing trophy by 1 point.

We were towed back to Headquarters Bay, and there quickly rigged our canoes with drop keels, masts, sails and sheets, and were soon ready for the first heat of the sailing trophy. The wind was too strong for most of the American canoes, so East Anglian won, with Valiant second, Gordon Douglas third in Nymph, Rolf Armstrong fourth with Mannikin, and Mab, who had left her mainsail ashore and set two mizens, fifth. So only five finished out of nine starters.

After the race Roger went to Gananoque to see the paddling races there, while I stayed at Sugar Island to try out our storm jibs, and see if they were good, in case the wind came stronger. They seemed good, so after sailing three times round the island, I set off for Gananoque to watch the last of the paddling races. By this time the wind was easing, and only about half the paddling canoes were swamped in this race. The war canoes, with fifteen men in each, made the finest sight, as they tore through the water. We had tea aboard Frank Palmer's yacht, and returned to Sugar Island for dinner. The island looked very fascinating as East Anglian approached it in the twilight; the hard wind had eased with sundown, and there was time to think of the peace and restfulness of living in tents, on an island with no roads, no motors, nothing except rocks, trees, bushes and wild animals. And it was pleasant to think of, and look upon this island, in the evening light. That evening, after dinner, the executive meeting was held at Headquarters Tent, and the American Canoe Association made Roger and I honorary members for life. This was a great honour, and one we felt deeply. And so to bed, feeling happy and contented.

Sunday was another day of peace. In the morning Roger and I went for a sail off the weather side of the island, as there was a smart breeze. I had my storm jib, and he, with lull sail, was faster, as was to be expected, for there was not enough wind to shorten sail on our canoes with sliding seats.

Then, after lunch, we were all peacefally yarning in George Lewis's tent, when in burst Ted Coggins, who had just arrived at camp, wanting to be convinced that our canoes were faster than the Americans in hard weather. He bet the red pants he wore that he could beat Roger and I.

Now two to one is unfair, and as I was dressed for church, Roger took the bet, and the pair went to race, whilst we went on to church in Headquarters Tent.

Rolf Armstrong went out as race officer aboard the committee boat, and started them, while we sang hymns ashore. Suddenly, whilst the lesson was being read, Doc. Wakefield nudged me, and looking out to sea, I saw Ted capsized, and Roger roaring along in fine style. Then Ralph Britton's voice suddenly tailed off faint in the next hymn, and looking up, I saw him tvisting his neck round to watch the race, for as he was in the choir he had his back to the sea. So our service and race went on. Roger won the red trousers, and convinced Ted that our canoes were faster in wind, a fact which had been proved beyond all shadow of doubt the day before.

That evening Ralph Britton took us to his island home the other side of Gananoque to dinner, and then in the twilight, Ralph, Roger and I explored the group. The magic and fascination of these small islands was strong that night, and it was hard to leave them, and return to our own island and bed.

Amongst the Admiralty group we saw the Natural Open Air Cathedral, surely the finest place in which to worship. People did go there every Sunday evening, sitting in their canoes and boats, whilst the parson conducted the service from the natural pulpit ashore

The parson who preached at our service at Sugar Island in the afternoon was a brother-in-law of Ralph Britton, and he told us the story of a brother clergyman who was appointed to congress.- and when asked if he prayed for congress, he replied that he looked at the congress and then prayed for the nation.

On Monday came the second heat of the National Trophy over a windward and leeward course with a nice breeze from NW, which shifted during the race, and so spoilt the beat for the last two rounds. At the end of the first round, East Anglian led, and held her lead till the fifth round, which was won by Mannikin. Then, as the wind had shifted still more to the south, the last beat became a close reach, but Mannikin not noticing this, lost her lead by holding on to the starboard tack, when by coming about at the buoy she could have laid the course on the port tack. So East Anglian won this race with Mannikin second, Valiant third and Douglas fourth.

This night was the commodore's ball, and Roger and I wore our dinner jackets in his honour. but they were so hot and uncomfortable that we changed them after about two dances.

Tuesday was the third and final heat for the National Championship in a light wind, when our canoes and the Americans were the same speed. East Anglian had only to finish fifth in this heat in order to win the American National Sailing Championship, so I sailed a very careful race, feeling rather like a married man playing cards who will only go nap when he has the ace, king, queen, jack and ten of one suit, and in spite of carefally sailing well clear of every canoe and buoy, East Anglian only lost first place by 5 seconds to Gordon Douglas in Nymph, with Mab third, Roger fourth and Oske Wow Wow fifth.

And so East Anglian had won two American championships for the Humber Yawl Club of England, the combined paddling and sailing, and the decked sailing, and I felt at peace with all the world.

There was just one other championship, for paddling only, and the fact that the American canoeists one and all asked me to train for this, and try to win it in 1934, illustrates their sportsmanship and love of sport.

On Wednesday, the Paul Butler Trophy was sailed for. It was Paul Butier who adapted to the canoes the Indian trick of sitting out to windward on a plank. These Indians gauged the force of wind by men, a two-man breeze was one where two men sat out at the end of planks, and so on. Paul Butler was a tiny man, and so light that he did not stand any chance in strong winds, so he put the sliding seat on his canoe in the [eighteen] eighties, and won races, until the others fitted them also, and now most canoeists use a sliding seat, although on this side of the Atlantic we have a rule against them.

The sliding seat is of great advantage to canoe sailing, for the power of a sailing canoe is that of the weight of its crew sitting to windward. In England, we are forced to lay out, which is a strain, but, with the sliding seat there is no strain, as the crew simply sit out at the end of the slide. Besides being easier and more comfortable, this is also drier, for the seas, breaking over the canoe as she is driven to windward, do not touch the man on the sliding seat.

Paul Butier's widow gave this trophy, and it is a very pretty cup, rather like a Gaelic quaich with a handle on each side, a Scotsman being so afraid of losing his drink that his cup was made so that he could hold it with both hands.

Roger won this race, and I finished 12 seconds astern of him, with Ralph Britton third, in Jonah. In the first beat to windward I made a mistake over one tack; Gordon Douglas in Nymph was second and he stood on for about 5o yards, and then came about to port. As he knew the waters and was, moreover, second boat, I put about too; then we came round again, as I had his wind, and away we stood for the islands to windward. By this time, however, Roger, who was a very close third on rounding the buoy, had pulled out ahead, as he had not tacked twice in quick succession as we had, and we were unable to catch Valiant during the rest of the race.

Thursday was the last race for us of the meet, and as winner of the National Trophy, East Anglian was not allowed to race for the Mab Trophy, so I went aboard the committee boat, as one of the officers of the day.

It was a fine race to watch, as it was another day when the wind was light enough for the English and American canoes to be of equal speed.

The first three canoes kept changing places during the beat to windward, first one ahead and then the other as the puffs shifted or the others made false tacks. But in the end Rolf Armstrong won by a minute from Roger, with Ralph Britton third, and Adam Whal fourth.

Then came lunch, and whilst Roger went to Gananoque to do some shopping, I rigged our two canoes, and packed things at the tent, for that afternoon we were to sail our canoes to Clayton, and so enter America for the first time. It was a fine sail there with a strong wind, and on the beat Valiant forged ahead of East Anglian. Murphy and Ralph Britton escorted us over, and went bondsmen for our canoes, otherwise we should have had to put down money amounting to the third of their value against their being sold to the Americans.

We sailed them into a yacht yard, and stored them in a shed, then went back to Sugar Island for our last night's sleep, after we had been presented with our cups and medals, and the former had been duly filled and passed round. This was a joyful and yet sad evening, for it was our last, and we made the most of it, Roger leaving for Gananoque at 2.00 a.m. to visit his uncle in Vermont.

Heavy rain and wind squalls.

On Friday morning it rained hard, and was not at all pleasant for packing things from our tent, but at last it was all over, and Douglas took Rolf Armstrong, his wife and canoe as well as myself to Gananoque for the ferry to Clayton. At Gananoque I had to change the customs papers of our canoes for others to let them into America. Then we boarded the steam ferry for Clayton, and as she steamed past Sugar Island the friends we had left fired the cannon and dipped the flags, a very sad morning, but all things come to an end, and that camp did, although its memory will live always.

Continued....