Cutting through the Voyager Boatyard in Millbrook, Cornwall, on my way to work, I found my brother Matt Black looking perturbed. “What’s up,” I asked. “I’ve just landed another job in another yard, and I have 20 years’ worth of stuff to get rid of, including the Sea Dog, and it’s got to go now,” was his reply.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Max Liberson A boatbuilder and freelance boat captain, Max formerly had a classic gaff cutter but now owns the Seadog, Lunatoo. He’s also author of The Boat They Laughed At, the story of a ferrocement 42-footer he restored and sailed from Essex to the Caribbean.
The vessel in question was quietly floating alongside a pontoon, having just been relaunched. I’d not been aboard, although I had seen the wreck ashore. The yard had been asked to break it up by the insurance company; a gas explosion on board meant it had been declared a total loss. But Matt felt the Seadog could be restored rather than destroyed. He had planned to put it on a beach mooring, but the boat wasn’t rainproof and would soon fill with water and dead leaves; I suspected that if that boat was moved to the beach, then it would be a death sentence for the craft.
I went on board; there was a lot more room than I was used to on my 85-year-old gaff cutter, . Also on the plus side, the saloon had not been wrecked in the explosion.
