Voyage to the Sea

Denis Gorman

Description

Denis Gorman's A Voyage to the Sea is an inspirational tale of following your dream, despite the set-backs that life can throw at you, and is delivered in a well-paced narrative that military historians and deep-water sailors will enjoy in equal measure.

Sujets

• Philosophie et théologie
• Memoir
• Sailing

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 12 octobre 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781785897979
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2016 Denis Gorman

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

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ISBN 978 1785897 979

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd


For Dad and his Grandchildren.


The following story is true.

The names of the characters behind Jessica Jane Pember and her parents Lionel and Ann have been changed. This is purely for purposes of anonymity.


Copyright disclaimer
I have tried assiduously to contact all the copyright holders of photographs within the book. Given the historic nature of many of these, this has not proved possible. If any copyright holder recognises a picture to which they believe they have such rights, they are welcome to contact the author in order to come to an arrangement as regards said copyright.


Contents
O ne
First Light
T wo
The South Atlantic
T hree
Tides of Fortune
F our
The Azores
Five
Newport Rhode Island

Finisher Results
The Remaining Challengers
Some accounts from our first gale


Acknowledgements
It is said that, in order to write a good book, a prospective author needs to surround himself with good people. It was only in completing my first draft of ‘ A Voyage to the Sea ’ that I understood the true meaning of this. I am indebted to my fellow JC, Roger Taylor, author of ‘ Voyages of a Simple Sailor’ , for his constructive advice and editorial assistance of the original manuscript. This proved invaluable.
I also needed to test the manuscript and I’m indebted to my kind friends who read it at various stages of its pre-edited finish. From this, I was able to better determine the definition and shape of the finished article and to decide on the level of technical description that, for instance, a non-sailor might stand. I’m indebted to Cavan Durney, Grantham Burgess, Bente Beining, Tony Banks, Ellen Morton, Simon Jamieson and especially, Diana Moon. Their patience, encouragement and unsentimental feedback, caused me many sleepless nights but disciplined me sufficiently to rework and reconstruct the many inadequacies of the original text.
To the same Tony Banks I am also indebted for his photographic work which included the reconstruction of many old pictures.
I reserve a special mention to my dear friend Stan Snape. It was his former boat that took me across the Atlantic, and it was he who helped me, to prepare the boat, and to set myself up psychologically for the coming voyage. I doubt that I could have done it without him….The same is true of this book.
As I look upon this finished product I realise that family, adventure and friendships are what makes life worth living… what makes it all worth the candle. You are born to a family and have little choice in what you’re dealt. But if you should ever undertake to fulfil a dream or an adventure of your own, then I hope, like me, you will be as blessed as I have been, with such good friends.

Denis Gorman


O ne
First Light


1
Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Max Ehrmann 1927

My story starts in Glasgow in the early 1960’s. My earliest memories are of my mother, Olga, the terror of my life, flying into a chaotic rage and lashing into us with a wooden spoon, attacking our father and being restrained on our living room floor until she calmed down. My father, John, was the hero; he always saved us.
The fact that I was ever born at all was due to the stubborn Catholic determination ingrained in my parents to make their impossible marriage work.
I was the youngest of three children, born within the first hour of April Fool’s day, 1st April 1961. My sister, Maureen, was my elder by five years and my brother, Edward, by three. Whilst I was still an infant, my mother returned to her hometown of Naples in her native Italy, ostensibly to attend her father’s funeral. She stayed there for six months, leaving Dad to look after the three of us. Whilst he was out at work, Maureen and Eddie became latchkey kids, taken in by kindly neighbours and I was looked after by our Gran.
Olga made out that her mother was on the cusp of life and death and her presence was ever needed at her side. Dad repeatedly begged her to return home but Olga continually resisted his pleadings. Only when he himself flew out to Italy, was he able to persuade her to come back to Glasgow, to her marriage and her kids. It was a mistake.
It must have been clear to all but Dad that his marriage to Olga would never fly. The relationship was doomed to disaster and, sure enough, before too long she was on her way again and Dad was left with the three of us.
It would later be discovered that Olga’s mother had died three months before her father’s funeral. The whole cock-and-bull story was concocted to cover up an affair with an American serviceman. Olga had only returned because she’d been dumped by the Yank and was effectively out of cash.
Our father had excellent grounds to sue for divorce and custody of his children but he believed that, first, he had to do the right thing by his faith. He asked the church for an annulment to his marriage, citing amongst other things, his wife’s infidelity with the American. The church listened sympathetically to the pleadings of this sincere Catholic man and agreed, without reservation, that he should be granted the annulment he wanted.
The terms of the annulment were spelled-out… ‘It is a marriage that never was’… because…’ The true Christian spirit was not entered into by the offending party’... They decreed… ‘You will be free to marry again’… ‘In Catholic faith and in a Catholic Church’… ‘Your character is unblemished.’
The fly in the ointment was the declaration that it was, ‘A marriage that never was’. This would mean that in the eyes of the church, Maureen, Eddie and I would be illegitimate, bastards no less.
Dad could not accept this. Whatever happened to him, he had to ensure that his children would have the chance of remaining within the kingdom of God and respected by the society that we were born into. He now turned to the courts and sued for a legal separation and custody. But these things take time and, left with three children and no wife, Dad found it impossible to cope. He had a job to hold down and our Gran was too unwell to look after us. It was an agonising decision but he had to hand us into Smilum, a Catholic orphanage in Falkirk.
We lived there for six months and I remember much of this as clear as day. Because of my young age, I was placed into a girl’s ward. I can picture the blond haired girl who slept in the adjacent bed. She was pretty, but always looked so sad. The nuns, who were cheerful and kind, seemed to have a purpose and goodness flowing from them that you could see and almost feel.
It was here in Smilum that I had my first ever adventure; I went searching for Maureen and Eddie and, after negotiating two security doors and a long colonnade that separated the senior and junior parts of the complex, I found them playing together in a hall full of older kids. They recognised me and we sat for a while not quite knowing what to do. My presence was causing a bit of a stir. Other children gathered round. Some were laughing. I knew it wouldn’t last and, sure enough, a kindly flustered nun tracked me down and with the gentlest chastisement, picked me up and took me back to where I belonged.
I don’t ever remember Mother coming to visit, although I later found out that she did so once. Within minutes, for some reason, she slapped my brother across the face and was subsequently thrown out by the nuns.
Unbeknown to me, behind the scenes, a legal battle was well underway and firmly in the media spotlight. My mother was suing for maintenance and custody of the children she had abandoned. Father was trying to keep us, for our own safety, with him.
A psychiatrist gave evidence and said that they did not know whether my mother was mad, bad or misunderstood. The judge concluded that, from his perspective, he could not believe a word that came out of her mouth; he did, however, find my father to be an honourable man and described him as a, ‘highly credible witness’.
When Lord Leechman awarded in favour of our father, it was an extremely rare occurrence, one, in fact, that made Scottish legal history. The Scottish newspapers carried it as a leading story. Father, however, would need to pay maintenance to his estranged wife whilst carrying the sole financial burden of his children. It woul