Maggots in porridge might put many off the sea for life, but not two young Irish women. Even the captain's consoling remark - that it would "give body" to their breakfast - didn't deter them, as the pair sailed on board a tall ship bound for Australia from Dublin.
It was the Pamir, one of a fleet of Scandinavian square riggers owned in the early part of the last century by the legendary Captain Eriksson of the Baltic's Aland islands. For Daphne French, niece of the songwriter Percy French, and her friend,
Betty Parsons, the opportunity was too good to miss. When the ship berthed on the Liffey in 1935, they signed on as stewardesses for the passage to Port Lincoln. The pay was one shilling a month.
"The irresistible silent march of the great ship, under 50,000 square feet of canvas, was a fine sensation," French wrote in her log. "She did not roll much, even in very light weather. Her greatest angle of heel, in a sudden tropical squall, was 33 degrees."
French, who passed away several years ago, became something of a sailing legend herself - and perhaps it is a tribute to the authors of this first history of Irish sail training, Captain Eric Healy and W.M. Nixon, that one would like to have learned more about her. She was among the many captivated by the grace and beauty of sail, long after such ships had passed their economic sell-by date. Thankfully, some were kept on by enlightened states for training, given that no experience quite matches that harnessing of wind on sea.
Even Ireland, often cursed for its lack of awareness about its maritime heritage, has maintained a sail training tradition, and that wonderful floating ambassador, Asgard II, is currently participating in this year's Tall Ships race under the command of Captain Tom McCarthy.
Recounting the history of the first training craft, the Howth gun-running Asgard owned by the late Erskine and Molly Childers, and its successors, the authors are well qualified to put this State's contribution in perspective. Captain Healy was master of both Asgard its successor, Creidne, and the purpose-built sail training brigantine, Asgard II. Winkie Nixon is a contributing editor to Afloat magazine, a sailing columnist with The Irish Independent and has contributed to several international sailing journals.
The text is far from predictable at the outset, with some interesting observations in the first few pages. If Ireland was not a maritime nation, it may have been because it was never really much of a nation anyway, they suggest; and it has produced a fair number of distinguished seafarers, including pioneers like Wallace Clark, of the Derry linen family, who recreated the voyage made by St Colmcille from Derry to Iona long before anyone had ever heard of Tim Severin.
Even being an island doesn't automatically bestow "great maritime status", they say. Small coastal regions determined to maintain their own identity in the shadow of greater powers tend to wear that mantle, they suggest, citing the Phoenicians, Galicians and Bretons (but what about the Icelanders?). Irish people, they remind us, have often been described as Mediterraneans left out in the rain, and the fact that the Irish words for sea and mother stem from the same linguistic root suggests a more complex, yet comfortable, relationship with the sea.
All stimulating stuff, with an introduction by the Minister for Defence, Mr Smith, and the book is illustrated with many photographs - some stirring up fond memories of the Tall Ships races in Cork and Dublin. As the authors note, the goodwill that the Tall Ships race engenders is remarkably high; far from "being a parade of official stuffiness", the fleet's arrival is usually a signal for a wonderful "informal waterfront carnival" and a maritime Mardi Gras.
Lorna Siggins is marine correspondent of The Irish Times
