Oyster News 52 - Oyster Yachts

At noon on a weekday last September I found myself sitting in a small room on
the second floor of the Royal Yacht Squadron’s "Castle" in Cowes, England,
having lunch with Lord Amherst – (William) Hugh Amherst Cecil -- who is in his
third year of a four year term as the Squadron’s 18th Commodore. The Castle’s
common rooms are replete with museum-quality antiques, trophies and models,
heavy draperies, nautical art, and oriental rugs, all slightly faded with history. But the bright
little chamber in which we sat was painted white, with white wainscoting, and simply
furnished: writing table, a couple of side tables, a nautical painting or two, and three chairs.
This could be the Commodore’s office (there was no sign on the door), or just a place for
an informal discussion of the sort we were having.
Of medium build and height, Lord Amherst is an affable, good looking man in his 60s. Roly Franks,
a sailing friend and Squadron member who was found seated in the windowed alcove at Boodles
Club in London that Sir Winston Churchill favoured, describes Amherst as "an eminently suitable
person." Another of Amherst’s sailing crew says he is charming, a perfect diplomat, "a centre of
stimulation who never dominates." Amherst’s thick crop of graying hair is parted on the side and
combed back with leading-man flair. He is dressed in corduroy slacks and navy blazer, with a
freshly ironed checked shirt open at the neck. His eyes are very blue, and the ruddy glow on his
boyish face is more from salt spray, sun, and wind than 21st Century stress.
A steward entered the room and placed an ample plate of
smoked salmon and egg salad sandwich triangles on the table.
Amherst had a glass of Chardonnay. I had a Coca-Cola. He
advised me to dig in. "I’m quite aggressive when it
comes to a plate of sandwiches."
I returned his smile because I was mentally chuckling to
myself that I, an American whose Separatist ancestors
had escaped England in 1620 on a 180-ton galleon
called Mayflower, was inside The Castle. When this
club was founded in 1815, one prerequisite entitling a
"gentleman" to become a member was ownership of
a vessel "not under 10 tons." I can do "gentleman." But
my one-design weighs barely one ton. My blazer and
necktie suddenly seemed inadequate cover. My Coca Cola
(with ice!) was a dead giveaway. I ate quickly. Any moment
they would realize their mistake and escort me
to the street, or perhaps the dungeon.
OWNER PROFILE
The Commodore of the Royal Yacht Squadron is The 4th
Baron Amherst of Hackney, known to his shipping
friends as Hugh Cecil
BY ROGER VAUGHAN
www.oystermarine.com
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