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Sailing with a sense of history at your shoulder seems to me to add a wonderful dimension. As a young Sea Scout I did hundreds of hours in a double-diagonal teak ship's cutter that was at least a hundred years old -- the Royal Arthur, saved by W. L. Wylie, the marine artist, and given to the 1st Portsmouth Sea Scouts early last century -- at Easter I renewed my acquaintance with Sabrina, a 27 ft. Harrison-Butler cutter built in 1933 of pitch pine on oak that I sailed on throughout my childhood -- and in May came the extraordinary experience of sailing Tai-Mo-Shan in the Aegean. This ketch -- of teak, but with frames of camphor and ipol -- was also built in 1933, but in her lifetime so far has sailed farther than Sabrina and Royal Arthur could ever have dreamed of. It's true that Sabrina had an engine - a little Brit that didn't like to start - and the Arthur had Scouts of many shapes and sizes tugging at eight-foot ash oars. But Tai-Mo-Shan, at nearly 25 tons and 54 feet long, completed her 16,000 mile maiden trip with no power but sails and human courage. There were tows in and out of some of the harbours she touched on, but that was all. Having spent a week on her in the relatively kindly waters of the Turkish coast I can only marvel at the utter cheek of the five young Navy officers who did that first, gigantic voyage. Their courage was not in doubt, of course. In the war that followed not many years later they won many medals, including one VC. When they ran ashore, on Crooked Island in the Bahamas, they refloated after 16 days of hard labour and determination -- and did allow, afterwards, that it had cost them more than they had saved by not fitting a motor... Money was very tight, however. To gain permission to sail to England from Hong Kong they had to accept a drop in pay to about £10 a month. Another "necessary economy" they made -- using cheap local paraffin pressure stoves for cooking -- nearly cost them their lives on two occasions when the stoves burst into flames in the tiny galley. My trip in the Aegean was with a three-man professional ship's company who were also resourceful and impressive. The captain, Altan Saracoglu (skipperaltan@hotmail.com) has spent much of the last three years bringing Tai Mo Shan up to her present state of beauty and seaworthiness with his companions Ali and Vecdi, and loves the vessel with a certain Turkish ferocity. When we lost the water pump while under motor in airs too light for the quick passage we needed to make, he nursed her into a chosen port many miles away where he had arranged by telephone for the chandlery to re-open at whatever time we were able to make it. For the last mile he towed her with the outboard inflatable, got the part by 10 pm, and by 11 we were ready for an early start next morning. The five young submariners would have been proud of him! With her 7 ton keel, heavy displacement, and 9 ft. 2 in. draft, Tai Mo Shan is a boat that loves heavy weather. She slips along quite happily in force two to three, but comes into her own when other yachts are looking for a refuge. We made a long leg out of Didim in a five rising to six, and under full "plain canvas" she was dry, fast and comfortable. Even the ship's dog, Stella, was happy in the shelter of the cockpit coaming, while her owner Moya Bowler, daughter of Tai's owner, Ian Bowler, remained below preparing a dinner of roast lamb. By early evening, inevitably, the wind had veered to the north, and was blowing directly from our destination, Samos. When we nosed into a sheltered bay on a closer island to spend a quiet night, the Greek military unfortunately had other ideas. A jeep full of soldiers came bucketing down the mountain track, Altan went ashore to explain the situation, and ten minutes later we were heading out again -- it was restricted territory. Course, due north. Wind, due north. Evening coming on. We had to motor. It was, I have to say, a cracking trip, and I'm no fan of motor boating. It was blowing a clear seven now, and was a full twelve miles to any shelter. The seas were running up to two metres high, and the spray and spindrift was remarkable. Every time we hit a particularly deep trough the sea cascaded down the deck from bow to stern, and the ship's bell, at the mizzen mast, gave a sharp ring! Every now and then there would be two rings, and on one occasion three. For safety's sake, Stella had been sent to the saloon, which is normally forbidden to her, and Moya, impressively, went below to keep her company. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to be there. I got the prize of prizes -- I was at the wheel. Total exhilaration. It was dark when we arrived in the lee of Samos and found an anchorage, and as we opened the hatches to break out some tins of beer and get the towels up, a most wonderful aroma wafted from the saloon and galley. Incredibly, Moya had not only survived below without a trace of sickness or discomfort, but she had continued cooking! The table was laid, the wine opened, toasts drunk. It was superb; undoubtedly the loveliest meal I've ever had on board a boat, of whatever size. If I have any criticisms about Tai's performance (and I don't, quite honestly) I could only say that she's a bit heavy on the wheel, and if she were mine I'd restore the tiller that the five intrepid submariners who sailed halfway round the world chose for her. But at the moment she is superb -- at 70-plus years old -- and I just hope that Moya can get enough money coming in to keep her in the manner to which Altan and Co have accustomed her. She is spacious and comfortable below, done out entirely in heavy and mature wood, with plenty of bookshelves and an enormous table. Everywhere we sailed we turned admiring heads, and in British or West European waters she would be considered a marvel. She is old, and needs more support than Moya and her father, who now lives in England, can manage. An outright sale perhaps, or maybe part-shares, possible chartering, who knows? Moya has to keep an open mind. The only absolute is that Tai Mo Shan must keep sailing. She is a wonderful vessel, steeped in history, and a marvellous, comfortable, well-equipped living gem. I can't wait till I get another sail! Jan Needle