Cold, wet and darkness form a classic environment for fear, and if this trio is mixed with the other fierce ingredients of a sea driven to fury by a winter storm hurling its strength against an unyielding tidal stream, it would take a truly exceptional man to feel no fear. I am no such man, but on such a night at sea in the Pentland Firth I found that these diabolical conditions bred something else as well as fear. This was a feeling of intense respect for my fellow members of the life-boat crew. They formed practically the entire adult male population of the hamlet of Brims, and for each of them honorary lifeboat service—winter after winter, with some dense fog summer rescues as well—would probably continue to the end of their lives.

Indeed it proved that most of those fine men were to lose their lives on life-boat service in those same waters. For me it was just a couple of years before my professional naval duties would take me elsewhere, but the respect I learnt to feel for those fellow crew members was something that can never die.

As a professional seaman myself, with experience of all the oceans and many seas, I knew well enough of the vast powers let loose in a storm at sea. Especially I knew of the added hazard when near the land, where it may be difficult to discover your position with certainty, where hidden rocks and shoals abound, and where the tidal streams are often strong and erratic. These are the waters where deep seamen know they must be particularly alert, sometimes even waiting in the open sea if the conditions are too bad for a safe landfall.

Yet these are the waters where lifeboat men must operate, and their calls come most often when conditions are so bad that other seafarers are in distress. Perhaps one has to serve in a life-boat's crew to understand their feelings to the full; perhaps, also, only experience can tell what it feels like to be a life-boat wife, whoseman has been called out on a stormy winter night and only she knows that he is scarcely over a bout of 'flu, or has a nasty spell of rheumatics.

Since that apprenticeship of life-boat work in the Pentland Firth it has been my privilege to launch with the crews of some 20 other lifeboats on the coasts of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Each crew had its own individuality and each had developed its special techniques; yet as a naval man who has experienced a very full share of small craft work, I never failed to be inspired by the amazingly high standards of seamanship shown in each. Of course the lives of each man depended upon these standards, besides the lives of those they would rescue, as nothing less than superb seamanship could withstand the conditions in which they might be called upon to launch.

One thing which I specially noticed when first I joined the Pentland Firth crew was thereally professional competency with which they operated equipment which had not come their way as fishermen. For instance, when radio was fitted, they had learnt to be really good radio operators, and with other new equipment I have noticed the same mastery, which blended well with their traditional specialised knowledge of their own waters.

Why do these men go at all ? They often face grave risk and inevitably encounter excruciating discomfort. Perhaps it is that those trials of storm at sea create a bond that compels practised seafarers to turn to the help of others in distress at sea—whatever the risk and pain. Certainly they launch their life-boats whatever the hazards, and sound common sense as well as ethics demand that such men should have the best possible tools for their task.

My professional career at sea is now over, but I enjoy yachting as a recreation, and so do my family. Thus we are often at sea in small craft for pleasure; for instance all my five children had sailed offshore in small craft just about as soon as they could walk, while once when I was away racing a small yacht across the Atlantic, my wife was sailing another small boat from England to Germany; another year when racing round the Fastnet Rock off Ireland my younger son was able to wave at me as he sailed round the same rock in a rival yacht.

Perhaps, then, we would be assessed as a yachting family with at least as much sea experience as the average, and enough knowledge to be aware of the hazards. Certainly we all know enough to realise that the sea can be utterly unpredictable, while human creatures evolved as land creatures are always liable to mistakes at sea. As a family man, and this must surely apply to the close relatives of anyone who ventures on the open sea, we have a strong interest in an effective life-boat service to bring help if it is needed.Just how effective is the R.N.L.I, from the point of view of the yachtsman who sails in the estuaries and open seas ? This is a problem which has frequently come my way on a national level as one of those elected to the Council of the Royal Yachting Association, which is the national authority for the sport of yachting and represents the interest of all British yachtsmen.

In this capacity one comes across a number of cases where yachtsmen get into hazard or difficulties at sea; boats are quite often damaged and even lost, but perhaps the point which persistently surprises me is how very seldom anyone gets drowned while yachting in the open sea.

A goodly share of this good record is due to the effectiveness of our life-boat service. Yacht rescues seldom get much publicity, partly because the owner of a yacht which has been in serious trouble usually prefers to keep the matter purely between himself and the life-boat crew. He does not want to scare his relatives with news that he has been rescued; besides that, the loss of one's own little ship may be a deeply personal matter.

Not long ago I was offered by the R.N.L.I.

the unique opportunity of going out in any of the R.N.L.I. life-boats around the British coast to discuss yacht accidents with their crews and honorary secretaries. These were the men and women who really knew the facts in their areas, as they had actually rescued the yachtsmen in trouble. The numbers of yacht rescues proved surprisingly high, and another surprise was that several famous yachts, in full seaworthy condition and manned with experienced crews, had at times called for help.

It is true that there had been many calls torescue novices with far too little experience to venture safely out to sea, but there were also many rescues of really experienced yachtsmen.

After all, the professional seaman, in his trawler, coaster, fishing craft and sometimes even in a big ship, can get into trouble; so it would be folly for even the most knowledgeable yachtsman to feel that he will never need help.

Inevitably one hears some complaints from yachtsmen. Perhaps the commonest is that a life-boat came and offered help when it was not needed. Sometimes events have proved that the yacht was able to look after herself; but that does not prove that she was in no hazard. Often enough the life-boat-crew knows that a yacht is liable to be in great danger, for instance on the turn of the tide; there have been several cases where it was easy to take off the crew of a yacht stranded on an exposed shoal while conditions were quiet, yet the life-boat crew well know that once the tide came up to cover the shoals, fierce seas would drive in making a rescue hazardous.

Then surely it is no sin to offer help when it proves unnecessary? Neither the R.N.L.I, nor its life-boat crews have ever charged a penny for saving life or standing by when life was in hazard. The laws of property salvage allow any seaman to make a claim for the salvage of a boat where it is proved to be in hazard, but the R.N.L.I, itself has never made such a claim.

There have been cases where life-boat crews have made and supported such legal claims; but these are very rare indeed, and in hundreds of other cases the life-boat has towed to safetya damaged yacht for nothing, as well as achieving the primary task of saving lives.

As an elected representative of yachtsmen, then, I am satisfied that the R.N.L.I, provides a superb service to yachtsmen. Of course it is not the only life-saving organisation, and it would be far less effective without close co-operation with the Coastguards. Then helicopters of the defence services have achieved valuable rescue work; but this is often most effective in co-operation with the life-boats; several times I have been aboard life-boats exercising with helicopters when some of the crews changed places between boat and aircraft.

Of course the life-boats could do even better.

Almost every crew I met had some ideas which might improve their efficiency. Most of these ideas would cost money, and there is always a desperate need for this. Yet it is my firm belief that every pound contributed to the R.N.L.I.

is really effectively used towards its purpose of saving life at sea.

The key to the whole thing is the quality of the men who man their life-boats. On the coasts of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland, the R.N.L.I, have achieved just that quality. Such men deserve all the support we can give them, and for anyone who ever goes to sea himself it is just plain common sense to give it..