Approaching in a row boat armed to the teeth we come closer, ever closer to the darkened target ship as it looms no more than a darkened patch of sea from which no starlight is reflected. Many times the reckless attack has carried away the unsuspecting crew greater in number than their adversaries. Hacking through hawsers we have set the sails to the land breeze that flows outwards from land when land is warmer than sea, as is usual at night, for the land cools faster than the sea.

A little more prosaic was my own cutting out expedition in the last night of the Raja Muda regatta. Armed to the waist with scissors, a scrap of sail repair tape and a wad of dry kitchen paper I planned to deface a notice on a rival boat. My school colleague acted as lookout. She reported the coast as clear. I measured the lower half of a capital ‘R’ intending to change it into a ‘B”. This ‘R’ was the beginning of the word ‘RUM’ and it advertised this drink produced by a company sponsoring the regatta.

This minimalist approach was not my idea, but the brainchild of this man

I would need to cut out the lower loop from the tape and to stick it over the bar of the ‘R’. The kitchen paper – like the tinder taken on such expeditions in the age of sail – was essential to dry the fabric, for it was indeed a dark and stormy night.

“All clear” hissed my lookout, and I set to with the scissors, only to be arrested by a sharp challenge.

“What the hell are you doing?” demanded a voice. I replied with as nonchalant an air as I could muster:

“Just doing a spot of sail repair, don’t cha know, old chap”.

“Right you bugger, let’s be having a look at you! Now what are you about?”

“Ok, it’s a fair cop” I replied, abandoning my innocent stance as utterly untenable for I was caught red-handed, hard up by his notice with scissors and tape in hand.

“I was just going to change your ‘R’ to a ‘B’ and you’ve caught me red-handed.”

“I like your style, young fellah, come aboard and have a rum” was his generous response.

And that is how I made the acquaintance of yet another crafty sailor. Amongst other things he explained how he had passed by an island when apparently becalmed, as indeed we had seen him be. We had gone wide to avoid the wind shadow, whereas he had stood in, bearing the wind shadow for he expected the island to part the tidal current and acting like an aerofoil on its long side, for their to be a strong current in which he would be pulled around, as indeed had been found to be the case on the day. He did not care about wind if he could use the current, and he could.

In the best spirit, after considerable flow of the spirits with which I was so liberally plied, they allowed me to complete my cutting out expedition with this result:

These rather boyish pranks broke the tension of nine long sailing sessions of day or night in which we have battled and raced. Although we did not win our class of ‘Classics’ (defined as more than 30 years old), we did gain second prize and several thirds. In our class there was also a graceful old pilot cutter on which I had the privilege of visiting in Penang.

Back to the classroom nest week after this gruelling effort as the navigator. No more sailing for seven days!