"This book is written primarily for dreamers,

and they don't mind if a man can write or not

as lone) as the facts are there. It is written for

the man who works in a city office and

dreams about sparkling blue waters and

coconut palms and white sails bellying to the

warm trade-winds. It will, perhaps, show

him how it is possible to break away from the

ties of civilization, build himself a boat and

sail in her wherever he wills. I was a dreamer

once, but now my dreams have come true, and

I am satisfied and happy."

~ excerpt from the preface of

South Sea Vagabonds by Johnny Wray

ygrtfwfei unHcr sail at the start of the%'asitiiwC Ifiuxfot Ktfct: " " ." " - " " " "

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a sailingion

The story of Johnny Wrayand the Ngataki by

ROB GREENAWAY

Johnny Wray with Ngataki tinder construction in the back garden.

Johnny Wray and his book - South Sea Vagabonds ~ are New Zealand icons.They represent the pioneering spirit of Kiwi sailors better than any modernsailing endeavour ever will, and I am happy to argue this point with anyone.Most of New Zealand might not realise the significance of Johnny Wray to ournational sailing culture. We're far too caught up with the Americas Cup ~millions of dollars worth of carbon fibre, sponsorship and marketing - to re-member a kauri-hulled, 35 foot sloop called the Ngataki.A 63 year old boat held together with fencing wire and pyjamas, recently re-turned from a circumnavigation of the globe and still going strong. It costJohnny Wray 8 pounds, 10 shillings to motivate a nation back in the 1930s.Black Magic, and all other 'plastic fantastics', are by comparison, completelyinefficient .

ohn William GeorgeBradford Wray was

about 20 when he losthis accountancy job dur-

ing the first stages of theDepression in the 1930s.Perhaps it wasn't so muchthe lack of work as his lack

of interest; that was the cause."1 am not one of your slave-driving

work fiends," he wrote, "but it is one of mybeliefs that every man should do at least threeweeks' work per year ~ if only for the good ofhis soul."

Either way, he became an unemployed ac-

countant with plenty of time, a motorbike, alittle over eight pounds to his name and adream to go sailing.

The only problem was his lack of a boat,compounded by a lack of money.

A good friend suggested to Johnny that hehad six possible means of owning a yacht:buy one (answer,- no money), be given one(no chance), beg, borrow or steal one (hewas generally honest and "had an intensedislike of being shot at"), or f inal ly, to buildone (he admitted he knew not one end of asaw from another). It didn't look good.

With those options in mind, Johnny vis-ited a local shipyard, and the die was cast.

In 1939 a New

Zealander by the name

of Johnny Wray wrote a

book entitled "South

Sea Vagabonds."

The story tells of how

this indomitable New

Zealander with no

regular income and

only eight pounds and

ten shillings built his

own boat and sailed the

South Pacific ~ making

his dreams come true.

"Everyone seemed to be happy andcontented in their work," he wrote. "Theyhad good reason to be, for they werecreating something; something whichwas to be useful and, in their opinion,beautiful. The man who is creating some-thing seems to be invariably happy.

The blacksmith is happy when he cre-ates something useful from a bit of old iron ;

the artist lingers over his picture,- the car-penter whis t les as he works,- and theboatbuilder stands off and gazes with prideat the lines of his latest ship. But show methe man who is enjoying himself adding updead figures, or looking after dusty ledgers.

"As I stood there watching themen carefully f i t t ing the planks,the boys whistling and cheerfullymaking as much noise as possibleriveting, 1 decided there and thento at least try to build a boat."

The question remained. How doyou build a boat with about 8pounds? Johnny took things onestep at a time. First he needed tim-ber. Kauri he wanted and nothingless. He scoured the inner HaurakiGulf in a borrowed yacht andfound seven good looking logswashed ashore on Tin I s l and .Sadly, after towing them to Auck-land he discovered they were pine.Still, they'd pay for mi l l ing his kaurilogs, if he ever found any.

A few weeks later, Johnny wasequipped with timber. He had alsocrafted a model of the hul l he in-tended to create. He sat with twogood friends, Bob and Walter, dis-cussing the merits of the lines hehad carved, ready for the next bigstep - actually bui lding the boat.

"By the way, Walter", Johnnyasked, "you haven't got any oldhammers, saws, planes, or anythinglike that around your place haveyou? I haven't got any tools yetand for the best results you reallyneed a few when you're boat build-ing."

It was patently obvious Johnnyhad begun a task he was not re-ally equipped to complete. Buthe had at least two things goingfor him: spirit, and some surpris-ingly benevolent friends.

As the year progressed,Johnny 's boat began to takeshape. Frames collapsed and knocked himunconscious. Boards split like toothpicksunti l he learnt the skills of steaming timber.He very nearly sank a friend's yacht retriev-ing more logs. He broke traffic regulationstowing a 44 foot spar on a motorbike. Hecame close to breaking a 6 ton capacitybridge by towing a 24 ton weight across it.He could have been heavily fined, or elec-trocuted, for f iddling with the mains power

of his parents' house to light the tin work-shop which he had p lan ted i n the i rbackyard.

"In wet weather something seemed to gowrong with the works," he wrote of hiselectrical operations. "The shed becamealive, so that it became a matter of somedoubt as to what parts of it you could touch

Johnny Wray with Ngataki under construction in the 1930s.

"Everyone seemed lo be happy and contented in theirwork. They had good reason to be, for they were

creating something; something which was to beuseful and, in their opinion, beautiful The man whois creating something seems to be invariably happy."

without getting a shock. Even the toolsresting on wooden shelves inside the shedwere, contrary to all known electrical laws,highly charged. There was a great pity, Ithought at the time, that you can't tell if awire is alive by just looking at it. Thereought to be some way, but I don't know ofit. The only way I know is by trial anderror."

He and his mates formed the Ngataki

Club (he chose the boat's name early on),with the only membership requirement thesale of a book of sixpenny raffle tickets tohelp raise money for sails, and to help payfor the weekly keg of beer consumed by theclub in the evolving hull of the boat. Theysang, and drank themselves hoarse. Johnnywas free from accountancy and life was great.

The more you read of the book, SouthSea Vagabonds, the more sentimental yougrow. Here is the New Zealand that gavethe nation its character. Here is the dreamthat we still hold, and most often bury:forget the money, let's get on with l i f e .

Johnny, however, rapidly began to runlow on cash. His first pound wenton paying a recovery fee to theAuckland Harbour Board for threelogs he'd anchored near a fairway.Economies were required.

Bolts are expensive things, forexample, but they are very usefulfor holding a boat's frames to-gether. These are the t imberstructures that look like a cross-section of the hull , and upon whichall the timbers are fixed. Johnnydecided fencing wire would pro-vide the ideal fastening for theheart of his vessel.

"This method has the advantageover bolts in that the holes arequite small and the wood is notweakened to any extent," he theo-rised.

"I have to confess, however, thatthere was another small factor thathad something to do with myadopting this method: I had nosmall bolts, whereas my father hada large coil of heavy fencing wirethat he did not want."

He made sure the metal wire waswell-protected. He borrowed bi-tumen from the sides of Auckland'scountry roads, boiled it up, dippedin his wire and baked the result inhis mother's oven (while she wasout).

He found an engine ~ a castiron Zealandia made in Aucklandin 1904 ~ under a gorse bush in aturnip field. The half ton motorjust fitted on the back of his mo-torbike, so he took it home andmade it work.

He reasoned that if caulking ma-terial was made of good quality

cotton, and his pyjamas were also goodquality cotton, the corollary must be thathis pyjamas would make good caulking ~plus three shirts and a vest or two. It tookthe shirt off his back to prevent the Ngataki'shull from leaking.

One day, after about two years, Johnnywent to work on his boat to discover he'dactually finished it. He launched it in 1933,sailed to Australia, Raoul Island and Tahiti,

134 New Zealand Outside - The Annual & Directory 1997

several times. He met a woman called Lotiin French Polynesia, brought her back toNew Zealand, married, and basically lived avery happy life, although he did take abreak from the sea and served with theRNZAF as a navigator during the SecondWorld War (until the airforce discoveredhe was colour blind).

Upon his return he built a second boat, a43ft motor-sailer called the Waihape, set-tled on Waiheke Island and in 1986 diedaboard his yacht. In his last years, after Lotidied, Johnny became reclusive, apparentlysuffering from serious melanoma. He lefthis estate, and the royalties from his book,to the Red Cross. By 1991 it was reportedto have netted $170,000.

The story doesn't end there, however.Johnny's book, South Sea Vagabonds, pub-lished in 1939, became very popular (forvery good reason), and was translated intoseveral languages. If you want to buy acopy now though, you're into a bit of ex-pense and probably a long search.

There is a rumour it has been reprinted inEngland recently, but no Kiwi booksellerI've chased has turned up any clues. Mycopy is a second edition - 1952, publishedbyA.H.andA.W. Reed.

My father is a bit like Johnny Wray -right down to being colour blind ('defi-cient' he calls it). A big difference is thathe's a cabinet maker and has the ski l ls tobuild boats ~ and a very nice few vessels hedid launch. His main inspiration was thatfirst edition copy of Johnny's book, which,apparently, he carried with him everywherehe went.The real sentimental l ink is thatmy parents met on an island off Coroman-del while my father was cruising a yacht

Current owner Debbie Lewis in the saloon.

136

that Johnny Wray, in absen-tia, helped him build. I feel Iowe something to Johnny.

Hear ing that the yachtNgataki had recently returnedfrom a four year circumnavi-gation of the globe and wasmoored in Picton, was there-fore an exciting event. Orshould I say surprising?

How could a 63 year oldyacht, held together withfencing wire, essentially madefrom driftwood, caulked withpyjamas and built by an ac-countant, still be sailing thehardest oceans?

It's a legend, that's why. Andlegends don't die, mostly.

A recent article describesthe boat's owner (or viceversa), Debbie Lewis, as 'di-minutive'. It's not kosher, inmy books, to call anyone whohas sailed an 'old lady' of ayacht for seven years aroundthe globe with the help of her11 year old son, diminutive.

"You have a responsibilityowning a boat like this," saysDebbie. "Actually it makes youquite paranoid. I had a dreamin the Marquesas about hit-ting a bommie [coral head] ina storm. When we were hoveto off the Tuamotos for four days, I had thedecision of riding it out or trying to make arun for it and anchoring in the storm. But 1remembered that dream, and I didn't. They'dblame me for losing this boat, and half of

that blame would be because I'm agirl."

The 'they' that Debbie talks about isthe national yachting fraternity thatwas raised with Johnny Wray's bookunder their pillows.

Debbie doesn't quite fit their mould.She's a lot less pretent ious. TheNgataki retains all its solid appear-ances and quite conservative externalpaint job, but on the inside it shows abit of the influence of a mad keensurfer (that's Jason, Debbie's son) anda thirty-something woman who hasmade the boat home for quite a fewyears. It also has all the hallmarks of ayacht that wasn't built by a cabinetmaker ~ all heavy timbers and solid asa rock, but with an appearance that itmight have been put together by DrSeuss.

> The fencing wire is obvious on the| exposed frames in the for'ard cabin,g Debbie bought the boat for a littleg over $50,000. That's a lot for a vesselg of that age, but it is the Ngataki. To01 bring it up to 'category one' status

(New Zealand's marine version of a

Farewell from Auckland bound for Tonga.

warrant of fitness for international sailing),$20,000 had to be poured into repairs. How-ever, the yacht was generally still in goodcondition, including the original keel boltsand iron fasteners.

It was re-rigged in '79, and recaulked inthe same decade. Apparently the latter wascarried out because of an unidentified leak.The assumption was made that it had to beWray's pyjamas giving out, but the caulk-ing removed was in good condition. Itturned out to be a seacock that dripped on acertain tack.

Prior to Debbie buying the boat it hadgone through about seven owners. "Gener-ally the boat has been bought cheap, andfixed cheap, but with very heavy gear ~mostly scrounged from somewhere." Shecan name half a dozen boats that have givenup bits and pieces to replace the likes of thebow sprit and housing topmast.

Debbie's thinking about sailing off again."I thought seven years was a long time dur-ing the last cruise," she remembers. "Butnow I realise it wasn't long enough. But I'vegot to get a surveyor to look over the Takito see how she's going now, and there are afew other things to think about.

"Jason says I should be more like JohnnyWray. Just get the food on board and go."

Jason's right. It comes from that dreamwe all hold - forget the money and let's geton with life. O

New Zealand Outside ~ The Annual & Directory 1997