woodenboat

Deep in the forbidding interior of Burma, a young British army officer went shopping for
teak. The year was 1938 and the soldier was Walter Leslie Runciman. The massive tree trunks
were dragged by elephants with chain harnesses to the edge of a deep pit dug in the pithy soil
of the steaming jungle. One by one they were rolled into the pit and wrapped in a protective
layer of mud. When all the logs were thus interred, the pit was filled in, the site was surveyed
and the workmen left.

As the precious wood slowly cured in an age-old process practiced only by Burmese royalty,
several events took place. One was World War II. Leslie Runciman proved himself in that bloody
conflict and went home to England to join his family. And, the teak, in its cocoon of jungle mud,
took on a rich color, a rock hardness and an imperviousness to worms and insects.

The Runciman’s were shipping magnates in the grand style of the British Empire and young
Leslie eventually became Lord Runciman, Second Viscount of Doxford, which meant that
henceforth he’d be responsible for the salaries and wellbeing of scores of people with bad teeth.

At this same time, a marine architect named Uffa Fox was gaining note in Naval and maritime
circles for his innovative boat designs and construction techniques. Fox had built lifeboats for
the Royal Air Force in the shape of “punkin seeds”that could be dropped from aircraft to downed
pilots in the North Sea. Double-ended and water-tight, it mattered not which end hit the surface
first. They were also incredibly strong little craft, having been constructed by gluing together thin
layers of wood while alternating the direction of the grain. Fox felt that the canoe stern shape
was perfect for the treacherous waters of the English Channel. His construction method became
known as “plywood”.

Lord Runciman knew Uffa Fox and owned one of his sailboats, in fact. So, in 1950, he
approached his friend with a novel idea: return with him to the jungles of Burma, there to
uncover a cache of the finest hardwood in the world and create a yacht that would become a
classic. Fox agreed and an expedition was organized that included native bearers, pack
elephants and surveyors. What they found, upon arrival at the exact site where a decade earlier
the treasure had been buried, surprised them, for the only paved road in ten thousand square
miles had been laid over Runciman’s stash.

Only by a Royal Decree and a large cash bribe to the Kralahome, or King’s righthand man,
could the roadbed be disturbed, the teak unearthed and the valuable lumber retrieved. After
weeks of back-breaking labor the hardwood was placed aboard a steamer and transported to
England. A vicious gale of hurricane strength punished the little freighter as it rounded the Horn
of Africa, but eventually it arrived in the Solent where it ended up in the yachtyard of Uffa Fox.

Sailing vessel Sandavore was launched in 1952. She was yawl-rigged and 49 feet overall. The
teak, that had taken so long to cure, literally glowed under twenty coats of spar varnish. The
double-ended design made her exceptionally friendly to a following sea. The bronze fittings and
deck prisms shone proudly as Lord Runciman hosted Queen Elizabeth II and Bonny Prince
Charlie on a weekend outing.

Nobody could have predicted the succession of owners, the notable life of that boat, or her
eventual loss off the East End of St. John. Who would have thought that a queen, a fellow who
would never be king or a movie actor who portrayed a president would all sail aboard
Sandavore. Captain Lance Burgo would buy her in Miami and sail her for many years
throughout the Caribbean and East Coast Atlantic. And I would crew for him over two remarkable
seasons, living aboard in Cruz Bay and making memorable the vacations of many charter guests.

As I learned the finer points of brightwork maintenance, I would nickname her under my breath
“Sand-Some-More”. As I sweated and fretted elbow-deep in the bowels of the antique head, I’d
be reminded of whose royal buttocks had graced that porcelain throne. And, as I learned to
singlehand a large sailboat, I would come to admire the easy manner that was a result of Uffa
Fox’s insightful design.

Through Lance I would learn to entertain passengers with amusing and amazing stories; some
true, some embellished, some downright fabrications. One such lucky charter guest was Harry
Nessler from Buck’s County, Pennsylvania. In his 80’s and nearly blind, Harry would sail on
Sandavore every year. He knew his way around by sense of feel and was comforted by her
heaviness and lumbering gait through all sea conditions. I would read aloud to him and Lance
would describe the natural beauty that surrounded us. Once we explained the mating ritual of a
pair of leatherback turtles, that existed only in our imaginations, so graphically that they came
alive in Harry’s mind. Because he was sightless, it didn’t matter where we sailed, so we’d let the
Aries self-steering device take over.

Once we saved a pair of obese German tourists from drowning off Caneel Bay. It was a wurst
case scenario as the current propelled them toward Henley Cay. Sandavore was featured in
Alan Alda’s sappy movie The Four Seasons and Lance acted as technical advisor, as well as
captain.

Sandavore was a regular entrant in Foxy’s Wooden Boat Race, as well as the Sweethearts of
the Caribbean out of West End, Tortola. She met her demise one dark night on Red Rock Point
while tacking (too late, it seems) out of Coral Bay. Many pieces of her remain in the flotsam
collections of long-time St. John residents. Some may wonder how and why that hunk of teak is
so resilient. Now you know.

- Jeff Smith