Memoirs of a royal time at sea

The royal yacht Britannia sails up the river Clyde in Scotland back in its heyday.

The royal yacht Britannia sails up the river Clyde in Scotland back in its heyday.

Published Nov 22, 2011

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For the guests aboard the Royal Yacht Britannia, the thrill of joining the Queen for her state visit to the US had been marred by terrible storms.

On one particularly difficult evening during that trip to mark the American bicentennial in 1977, the only person unaffected by sea-sickness was the Queen, who appeared to delight in teasing Prince Philip - a surprisingly ashen-looking Admiral of the Fleet.

In her memoirs, Susan Crosland, wife of the then Foreign Secretary Tony Crosland, recalled how the monarch stood up after dinner and tried to open the sliding door of the state dining room.

“The Queen gripped the handle firmly, pressed her back to the door and moved with it as it slid slowly shut,” wrote Crosland.

“Wheee,” said the Queen. Britannia reeled and shuddered. “Wheee,” said the Queen again. She managed to slip through the doors with a quick “Goodnight” before the next lurch.

“The next day everyone was feeling rather better. ‘I have never seen so many grim and grey faces around a dinner table,’ said the Queen. ‘Philip was not at all well.’ She paused. ‘I’m glad to say.’” This mischievous side to the Queen was seldom seen by those outside her family, but she has described Britannia as the one place in the world she felt she could truly relax.

She was often seen wandering the decks in an old headscarf and slacks, and the royal apartments were filled with photographs of her family and heirlooms - including an ingenious nautical side-table designed by her great-great-grandfather, Prince Albert.

This moved on its base a little like a gyroscope and was specially weighted to always stay level, so a gin and tonic could be left safely on it in even in a force eight gale.

Such treasures were a reminder that Britannia was the 83rd Royal Yacht in a tradition dating back to the 17th century and the reign of Charles II.

But no longer can Britain - once a great maritime nation - boast a Royal Yacht, because Britannia was decommissioned 14 years ago.

Now, however, the Mail has launched a campaign for a new Royal Yacht to be built. In these straitened times, the idea may seem absurdly romantic. But the yacht won’t be built with taxpayers’ money; instead it will be funded entirely from business donations, and those from the public.

It will earn its keep, too, by serving as a national flagship with a national purpose: used by the Royal Family, of course, but also hosting diplomatic events, promoting British trade, and for scientific and educational purposes.

Above all, as the Queen approaches 60 years on the throne and preparations gather pace for her Diamond Jubilee, it would be a fitting tribute to our magnificent monarch - who has so many happy memories from her ocean-going holidays and foreign tours over so many years.

Britannia was commissioned for the Queen’s father King George VI, but he died before the keel could be laid. One of his daughter’s first acts on becoming monarch was to reject the designs for its royal apartments as too stuffy and opulent.

She opted instead for white-painted walls, mahogany woodwork and brass metalwork, with homely touches including chintzy sofas and armchairs.

“The overall idea was to give the impression of a country house at sea,” said Sir Hugh Casson, Britannia’s architect. “There was no question of her saying ‘That will do’. She had definite views on everything, from door handles to the shape of the lampshades.”

The Queen could not have everything her way. She wanted an open fire in the drawing room, until told that the cosiness would be rather undermined by naval regulations requiring a sailor equipped with a fire-bucket to stand next to it at all times. An electric fire was installed instead.

Other practical considerations included a garage for the Queen’s Rolls-Royce, and a knighting stool to be carried on all voyages.

There was also a mahogany windbreak on the bridge where Her Majesty would stand on formal occasions. Designed after experiments with Buckingham Palace secretaries wearing skirts of various lengths, this prevented unexpected gusts from revealing the royal underwear.

Finally, Britannia was ready, and on April 16, 1953, the Queen launched her from Clydeside with a bottle of Empire wine. At 412ft long, and weighing nearly 6,000 tons, she was then the largest yacht in the world.

Many summers saw her travelling to the Cowes Week regatta off the Isle of Wight, and then on to Scotland for the Royal Family’s holiday in Balmoral. But her main task was to take the royals on the 968 official voyages she completed during more than a million miles and nearly 44 years of service.

On these trips the Queen was accompanied by a retinue of up to 45 household staff, among them a hairdresser, surgeon and chauffeur. They took on board five tons of luggage, including the Malvern mineral water preferred for making the Queen’s tea and a set of mourning clothes in case of an unexpected death in royal circles.

First-timers discovered that Britannia was a ship of two halves.

Forward of her central funnel lived the ship’s 20 officers and 220 yachtsmen, who worked under unusual constraints. To avoid disturbing the royals in the rear half of the ship, all crew wore plimsolls, shouting and running were forbidden, and orders were communicated by hand signals.

When in harbour, one man was charged with ensuring that the angle between the gang-plank and the ground never exceeded ten degrees, and that no royal ever had to step up or down more than eight inches.

Every day, the junior yachtsmen had to scrub the decks - made of 2in-thick teak from the forests of Burma.

Any work near the royal apartments had to be carried out in silence and completed by 8am, and should they encounter the Queen or any of her family, their instructions were to stand still and say nothing as the royal in question walked past them.

As in all their residences, the Queen and Prince Philip slept in separate bedrooms. And like all the Britannia cabins, these had only single beds, presenting a challenge for honeymooning newlyweds.

When Princess Anne and Mark Phillips toured the West Indies following their wedding in 1973, they reportedly had their twin beds lashed together, while Prince Charles was rumoured to have arranged for a double bed to be taken aboard for his honeymoon with Diana in 1981.

For the Queen, a day aboard typically began at 7.30am when her personal maid woke her up with a cup of the tea specially brewed for her by Twinings of the Strand. After a bath, its temperature strictly controlled with the help of a thermometer kept in her bathroom, she breakfasted in a sun lounge on the upper deck.

By 9.15am she was at her desk in her small sitting-room, going through boxes of official paperwork even when she was on holiday. During a coffee break at 11am, the Queen approved the day’s menus, and at 1pm took a buffet lunch with other members of her family. This was eaten in the state dining room, at an antique walnut table which seated up to 56 people.

When the royals dined alone, sections of this were removed to make for a more intimate meal and a buzzer at Prince Philip’s side summoned the waiting staff after each course, enabling the family to enjoy meals unobserved.

The Queen might then return to her official papers, before the ritual of afternoon tea at 5pm. This invariably included wafer-thin cucumber and salmon sandwiches. One chef on Britannia recalled that these were only ever triangular in shape, apparently because of an old royal superstition that rectangular sandwiches resembled coffins and might imply that the kitchen staff wished the monarch ill.

For the other royals, the afternoons were usually a time of relaxation. A canvas swimming pool was occasionally put up for the children on the upper deck where the family would sunbathe, and Prince Philip would sometimes put up his easel to paint.

If they were near to shore, they might set up picnics on secluded beaches, and these were often lively affairs, as former Australian Prime Minister John Gorton discovered. During celebrations to mark his country’s bicentennial in 1970, he was invited to join the royals for a barbecue on an island off the Australian coast.

“Somebody decided everybody should be thrown into the water,” he recalled. “First Princess Anne was thrown in, and then Prince Philip. I was sitting next to Her Majesty and I was about to throw her in but I looked at her and there was something about the way she looked at me. She was the only who stayed dry.”

Onboard, the royals generally kept to their part of the ship, although Princess Diana, then 20, spent much of her honeymoon cruise in 1981 fraternising with the crew, many of whom were around her age.

Joining them for drinks in their mess one evening, she played the piano and led them in a rowdy chorus of What Shall We Do With A Drunken Sailor? before senior officers led her politely but firmly back to the royal apartments. Such moments made Diana a favourite among the ship’s staff, unlike Prince Andrew. He was allegedly always very abrupt, snatching the morning post from them without saying a word.

Prince Edward was well-liked but considered rather strange, because even as an adult he slept with the large brown teddy bear he was given as a child.

Other royals were known for their unusual food preferences - the Queen Mother requesting that sugar should be sprinkled on her peas, while Prince Philip’s favourite treat was an egg poached in cream.

Dinner each night began with drinks at 7.30pm. During every evening meal entertainment was provided by a 26-strong band of Royal Marines, and during state banquets the staff kept an eye out for official guests purloining the odd silver spoon or fork as a souvenir.

“We have to take them aside and ask them to give up their trophies,” said one officer.

After dinner, the state dining room was often converted into a cinema where the royals enjoyed previews of latest releases from Hollywood. Action movies were preferred over quieter offerings, and James Bond films were a particular favourite.

On other evenings, the royals retired to the drawing room, in one corner of which was a baby grand piano, bolted to the floor in case of storms.

Over the years the ivories were tinkled by the likes of Noel Coward, and Princess Margaret also liked to take a turn, playing late into the night with a cigarette holder clenched between her teeth.

Other diversions included giant jigsaws and sometimes a game of Trivial Pursuit. Ô” was handing out the coffee one night when Princess Margaret was asked: ‘Who was the Earl of Snowdon married to?’” recalled a steward. “There was a bit of a pause, and then everybody started laughing.”

At night, the Queen’s bedroom was guarded by Royal Marines - but there was little anyone could do to protect the Royal Yacht from bad weather.

On another turbulent trip to America, in 1983, Britannia was lashed by severe storms off Long Beach, California. The air on the yacht turned blue as a frustrated officer tried to persuade a disbelieving American official that the royal limousine - transported on ship - could not make it through the deep puddles on the quayside, and that the Queen would be happy to travel by coach instead.

On finishing the call, he realised with horror that the Queen had overheard everything, but she told him not to worry. “I’ve been married to a sailor for 36 years,” she smiled. “I’ve heard it all before.”

Alas, the recession of the Nineties saw questions asked about whether Britain could afford the luxury of a Royal Yacht.

In fact, she had done much to earn her keep as an ambassador for British trade and industry. Used by government departments for “Sea Days”, in which prominent business figures from around the globe came aboard to discuss commercial opportunities, she was estimated to have earned the Exchequer some £3-billion between 1991 and 1995 alone.

Sadly, this did not save her. Tony Blair’s Labour Government having decided to retire her in 1997, she became a tourist attraction in Edinburgh - where she still sits in the port of Leith.

The moving decommissioning ceremony was the occasion on which Her Majesty famously cried in public for the first time - and her sadness was understandable. In bidding farewell to Britannia, she was saying goodbye not just to a ship, or floating official residence, but also a much-loved home. - Daily Mail

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