When the weather took a turn for the worse, Pete had to get up and go!

TAP! Tap! "What's wrong with the barome¬ter?" Sitting at the chart table, I swear I could see the needle actually falling. On an unfamiliar yacht, in high winds, on a dodgy mooring, a hundred yards from an increasingly ugly lee shore, it was hardly surprising that the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise...
Funnily enough, my first day as the new principal of the 'Westcountry Sailing School' at Brixham had started welL This would be the first practical cruising course I was to run as a brand new Yachtmaster Instructor. The stu¬dents had arrived on time. Everything seemed OK. The yacht was a Pioneer 9 on a long loan from a local examiner, and fitted with a Fare Gota two stroke petrol engine which was small, light and quiet. Although old, the boat was sound and seaworthy and well fitted out, with a good inventory. As for the students, Fred and Arnold were farmers; John was a surveyor, and Ernest a garage mechanic. Only John had sailed before. The plan was to take it gently...