Chief Petty Officer Roy Mullender BEM and Bar

Those who sailed with Roy Mullender will share the deep sense of loss at the news of his passing, aged 83, but also the happy recollections of having known him and learned so much from him.

It was a privilege to have been Roy’s Chief Mate for Leg 4 (Rio-Pompey) of the first Whitbread Round the World Yacht Race (1973-74). He and I had met several years earlier, sailing onboard Merlin and Marubu. One voyage was enough to convince me that I had met a totally original figure. A seaman to the very tip of his marlin-spike fingers, his athletic frame tuned to the boat. His eyes everywhere, seeking out chafe and other risks. Peering aloft to spot trouble before it descended, climbing the rigging to stand on the spreaders unaided, more or less because he could – and because he’d spy something amiss and have it corrected, quick-smart. And all the time, his eyes glinting with humour and with passion for the sea and for sailing and for the people who shared his interests and could parley the language of sailors the world over.

Later, as I was drawn into the Adventure project, I learned of his attention to detail. I understood his major contribution to the thinking around the design improvements being conceived for the yacht. I recognised his keen eye for what would make the vessel a sustainable and survivable prospect; and for what would at the same time make her a winner. We sailed together on a number of the trial sails that were configured to enable each of the volunteers to show what they could do. To my eternal gratitude and joy, he recommended that I became one of the trial skippers – a fabulous 8 weeks of experiences, week after week taking a new crew to sea in all weathers; and faithfully completing the 144 questions on the form that would enable Commander Mike Jones (the selector) and Commander Garth de Courcy Ireland (the project manager) to decide who was in and who was out.  

And as the Leg 4 crew came together, we’d head to Roy’s home to spread charts across the floor and – over a beer (several) – to discuss how to win the race from Rio to Portsmouth. He’d studied the doldrums; and he’d worked out that the leg would be won by the boat that reached the NE Trade Winds furthest to the east of the fleet. That boat would be to windward of all of those further west; we plotted and schemed, Roy’s eyes gleaming. We knew what we had to do – to work to the east of the fleet as we headed north east for the equator; to accept the risk that the further east we were, the wider and potentially slower the Doldrums. We had to focus on reaching the NE Trades as soon as possible; and then to make the very best of Adventure’s powerful cutter rig in the 18-28 knot winds that would be our playground for the 12 days or so it would take to beat north. 

That strategic intention was plotted by Roy in Hampshire, early in 1973, long before the start of the race. His leadership and calm confidence gave the Leg 4 crew a very settled sense of itself. He also insisted on the highest standards of deck-work; of steering; of seamanship (mind that chafe) and of drill. We went over and over again the ‘who-goes-where-and-when’ of tacking, gybing, spinnaker work, sail changing and the what-ifs of various evolutions. Roy was over every detail, encouraging us, inspiring us and ultimately cheering us on. His sense of humour, ready laugh and impish curiosity about all things boaty kept us aligned and built our capability. We became very, very good under his experienced skippering. 

Arriving in Rio by air from UK, we met a Roy who had just completed Leg 3 under Commander George Vallings. Despite a long and very draining leg, Roy had lost none of his gimlet eye. We quickly sorted out the boat, sweated for days in the steel lifting dock where Adventure and others were dried out for a bottom scrape and touch up. We stored ship for what seemed like days, sweating in the heat doing that too. Took a few days to sail and re-familiarize; went swimming and spinnaker kiting; enjoyed the delights of Rio and especially the Rio YC and waited for the last yacht to finish Leg 3 – the gallant Polish boat, Pieter von Danzig. And all the while, Roy welded us and made sure we would be ready. And he always made it fun.

We were first over the start line. The strategy was text-book; we worked our way eastwards – exactly as planned in Hampshire over a beer more than a year earlier – we took more than 120 miles out of the second-placed boat as we entered the NE Trades after a not-too-difficult few days at the equator, emphatically the most easterly of the fleet. Our lead stretched to 200 miles as we surfed fast northwards under the Tri-radial kite, on the leading edge of a depression near the Azores. The food cycle – every 4th day a “Morale Meal” (tinned pheasant, usually) – the radio schedules when we would hear how the others were reporting their positions – the humour, banter and Roy’s seamanship and leadership … all constants in happy days of fabulous and historic competitive sailing. Adventure raced forward: a remarkable blend of engineering fit-for-purpose and seamanlike, with elegant capability; her bespoke cutter rig so efficient. Roy’s input so important at so many points along the way, in a total project so well led by Garth and Mike.

We knew we had to beat the Mexican boat Sayula. The wind vanished in the Channel. We kedged off St Albans, waiting for a zephyr. Roy remained calm, even though the fleet a day or so astern was retaining the wind and closing the gap. A very long day passed in bright sunshine, in clear view of Blighty. We strained to feel the slightest breeze. Roy inflated a couple of condoms as wind-seekers (as you do). Finally, we found the sprightly wind that took us around the east end of the IoW and we finished at 0200, ahead of Sayula by 24 hours. Enough – more than – to clinch the Leg; short, sadly, of the additional 24 hours she had over us overall. Adventure had won 3 of the 4 legs, including ours, but leg 2, Cape Town-Sydney had been filled with drama and the time lost could not be recovered. Overall, Adventure was second to Sayula; always first in our hearts.

What a race; what a skipper. Roy – we salute you. Twice a BEM (his Bar was awarded in 1976, recognising further roundings of Cape Horn under sail – including as skipper of GBII). Always the best skipper anyone could wish to sail with; and a good friend through each of the ensuing decades. As he wrote in one of his Christmas cards a couple of years ago, as he was contentedly looking out across the creek at Fareham: “I am at ease here, seeing more and more of less and less”.

RIP, Roy.