Captain Bruce Memorial Sail

Nick Papageorgiou, as ship's manager, had posted a message on Active Crew:

The Fleet has offered the family of Bruce Hitchman a memorial sailing of the James Craig on which his ashes will be scatted over the sea that was so much a part of him and of his life. The date proposed is the 10th August with the ship departing for sea at 1030 and returning to her berth at 1500. The sail will be restricted to SHF personnel and members and friends of the Hitchman family. The ship will carry no passengers and the sail will be dedicated to the memory of Bruce, allowing his family the opportunity to return his ashes to his beloved sea in the company of friends and his crew mates. It is only fitting that the James Craig carries his ashes to sea as he had such a love of the ship and her crew and gave so freely to us as crew, always making time for any crew member that asked a question or needed an explanation.

Bruce was a SHF volunteer and his efforts benefited the fleet as a whole as do all our individual efforts across all the fleet areas day after day. But as the James Craig and her crew most directly benefited from his involvement it is only fitting that the ship and its crew take ownership of this sail and in this vein donations by the crew members to cover the costs of the sail will be greatly appreciated and will make this sail an offering of respect and appreciation to Bruce Hitchman and his family by those that shared his passion.

Nick sent a follow-up message shortly before the day:

We still have a few spaces left and it would be lovely to have enough crew to - as Bruce used to put it - Crack On.

On 10 August 2008 James Craig duly made sail in memory of Captain Bruce Hitchman, who had died by accident in June, in his eighty-first year. The ship was captained by the Executive Master Ken Edwards and crewed as always by volunteers. Many of us made a donation, perhaps as a sort of tribute to Bruce. Early in the day I chatted with an old member who had made many of her staysail hanks by hand; I expressed the ordinary hope that this day would bring together those who had restored the ship and those who now sailed her in a shared sense of purpose and commitment.

The day started with gentle winds, making it easy to set headsails, all squaresails on the foremast except the royal, main topsails and t'gallant, the main topmast staysail and the mizzen cap staysail. Once the ship was well outside Sydney Heads, an albatross was seen resting on the waves. Given the belief that each albatross is the soul of a departed sailor, this was a sign that Captain Bruce was supervising proceedings.

The commemorative ceremony was set for 1pm, but Captain Ken, wary of impending rain, prudently brought it forward. We were asked to refrain from taking photographs. We hove to without the usual shouting and then gathered at the break of the quarterdeck, crew with bare heads. Captain Ken recalled how, at a monthly lunch for old salts, with the telling of tall tales, he had invited Bruce to serve aboard James Craig - the start of a happy association. Ken then read the seaman's version of the 23rd psalm, including the lines:

Yea, though I sail 'mid the thunders and tempests of life,
I will dread no danger . . .

He then read Tennyson's poem about the crossing of the bar to be reunited with the great wide ocean,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Bruce's daughters, Sally and Kylie, then scattered his ashes onto the surface of the sea, making a reality of Tennyson's lines. Having just come down from bracing yards, I was standing nearby, but knelt so as not to impede the view of guests seated behind me. Sixteen bells were rung at the bow. Music showing Bruce's eclectic taste was played, including the Seekers' "The Carnival is Over," Mozart's "Ave Verum Corpus," "As Time Goes By," Pachelbel's Canon, "Somewhere" from West Side Story, "Turn, Turn, Turn" (adapted from Ecclesiastes) and a selection of sea shanties including "Leave her, Johnny, leave her." As the music began, a powerful wind sprang up, suddenly pushing the ship along, though hove to. We braced the sails on the mainmast square, and the ship picked up to 5, 6, 7.5 knots. This was clearly a sign that Captain Bruce wanted us to crack on towards his native New Zealand, making use of the stiff westerly. Someone recalled to the officer of the watch that the Greek word pneuma means both wind and spirit. He said that the sudden blast, coming immediately after the ceremony, would go down in the lore of the Sydney Heritage Fleet. So it should. One crewmember, describing himself as a pious atheist, said that he felt something very special and strange.

We had to reduce sail, having to head back to Port Jackson. We clewed up, losing a topsail buntline and the starboard clew garnet on the forecourse and also sustained damage to the fore t'gallant. A mate said that, given the sudden strain on the rigging, we were lucky not to suffer more. Captain Bruce was not going to give us an easy ride. He probably wanted to go aloft to do the repairs. Once we were alongside, Bruce's widow Nanette received the Hornby Light Award for Community Service on behalf of her husband.

When the guests had gone and the ship had been put to bed, the crew toasted Captain Bruce in various liquors - chief among them being Inner Circle rum, his favourite. it will always be special for me. Someone admired the way I licked the lip of the bottle after I had poured out the contents.

I thought of the song "Climbers of the Craig," which contains the affectionate lines:

Crack on, Captain Hitchman.
Let's get every stitch on:
Heads'ls, squares'ls,
Tops'ls, stays'ls,
Even all the teatowels from the kitchen!

Crack on, Captain Hitchman

Ralph Seccombe