The air was buzzing with expectation. The weather was perfect today. It was warm, but there was a cool breeze blowing in from the southwest, enough to push a yacht on with easy speed but without too much swaying. If one knew how to sail.
 
The piers, quays and bridge were already packed with exuberant the exuberant crowd. Vendors were trying to relief the audience of their coin, as was the occasional straying hand. The boats were picking up the last of their crew or making their way to the starting line near Tate Hill pier. Off shore, six brightly coloured buoys indicated the route the competing yachts were to take. The first team to cross the invisible line between the piers after rounding all six counter clockwise would win the race. The lifeboat lay ready in the harbour to fish up any incompetent fools who thought they could sail.