By

Ed Bartlett

Day One

Jesse pushed some crumpled newspaper followed by thin cedar sticks into the firebox of the cast iron Neptune No.1 stove. Lifting a floorboard, he extracted a paper bag of coal and put it onto the cedar. Replacing the lid, he opened the front of the stove and struck a kitchen match, touching it to the paper.

After a while the crackling of the cedar stopped and the stove began to warm from the burning coal. Jesse slid the draft almost closed and adjusted the damper. Reaching into the teak sink, he worked the handle of the water pump until the blue graniteware coffeepot was two thirds full. He poured ground coffee into the pot and lashed it to the rail of the stove with a length of marline.

Jesse went on deck and began taking in the mooring lines, noting that the inlet was as flat as a pool of mercury and even the tell-tales on the shrouds just above the dead eyes hung lifeless and limp. After the blower ran for a time he started the Universal Utility engine. Easing the transmission into gear, he steered the twenty-six foot boat away from the pier.

Ann put a fry pan on the stove and laid strips of bacon in it. Opening the oven door, she put in biscuits wrapped in foil. Giving the coffee a stir, she sat on the bunk as the bacon started to brown. The thrum of the engine and the cozy warmth from the little cast iron stove tempted her to stretch out on the berth. Instead, she took the bacon out to drain on paper towels and slipped four farm fresh eggs into the fry pan.

The boat cut cleanly through the water leaving only tiny ripples, mostly from the slow, steady pulsing of the engine. As he worked the tiller to leave the inlet and head out into the passage, a light fog softened the landmasses and hushed the sounds of the boat. A harbor seal, glistening head rising out of the water, watched the boat intently as it passed by.

Ann came on deck, carrying plates of bacon, biscuits and fried eggs. She handed him a plate and set two mugs of coffee on the deck. The total calm and muffling of sound by the fog caused them to speak in hushed voices, as if in a cathedral. After they had eaten, she stretched out in the cockpit for a time, her sun bleached light brown hair fanning out on the warm brown teak. She put her hand over his on the tiller for a moment and then took the dishes below.

As the fog thinned slightly, the boat turned and headed south between the island and the peninsula. He took two fishing rods from the lazaret and tied on small brass and chrome dodgers. They hooked on cut herring and let their lines run out as he slowed the engine to an idle. Soon, traveling back and forth from north to south, they had a number of silver salmon in the ice chest.

The sun came out and burned away the fog as they left the fishing grounds. There was no wind so the gaff rigged sail stayed furled, iron wind taking them north to a sheltered bay. By the time they got to the moorage the boat and fish were cleaned and the sun was just sliding behind a hill. Ann eased the Danforth over the side, paying out enough rode to equal five times the depth, while he backed the boat down, firmly setting the anchor in the sandy bottom.

Jesse started a small charcoal hibachi while Ann seasoned the salmon. She gave them each a bottle of frosty ale from the ice chest. The aroma of the cooking salmon made her hurry as she once again got into the ice chest and piled coleslaw onto two plates. He put the pink/gold salmon filets on the plates and got each of them another bottle of ale.

The sky slowly went from blue to red streaked orange to diamond studded black velvet. Opening a thermos, she filled two cups with coffee and a little rum. Sipping the fragrant coffee, they leaned back to see the stars. A fish jumped about twenty yards out.

Jesse lit the gimbaled kerosene lamp, filling the tiny cabin with a yellow glow. Ann giggled as he got into the berth, bumping her over with his hip. Pulling the thick homemade quilt up to their chins, he lowered the lamp wick and the flame went out. He could smell her salt sweet hair as she nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder. A very slight night wind had come up, pushing little wavelets to splash against the cedar hull and the boat to rock them to sleep.

Day Two

A clam, falling from on high and shattering on the fore deck, accompanied by the raucous cries of two herring gulls fighting over the prize morsel brought him awake. He stretched, savoring the warmth and comfort of the berth and her nearness.

With careful movements Jesse slipped from the berth so as not to awaken her. In short order he had the stove heating and the coffee pot steaming. Filling a mug, he took his coffee on deck and sat in the cockpit. Several boats had anchored in the bay, and like groundhogs, each skipper came on deck with mugs steaming in the pale morning sun.

Each skipper acknowledged the other with a small wave of the hand or a nod of the head. Early mornings in a small boat quietly anchored are not the time for boisterous greetings. It is a time for reflection and appreciation of God’s bounty.

When his coffee was gone, he picked up a towel and began wiping the morning dew from the bright work. The heavily varnished teak gleamed as the moisture was wiped away. Dipping a little water into a bucket, he went forward and cleaned away the remnants of the seagull’s breakfast.

Jesse had closed the hatch to keep warmth in the cabin. The hatch slid open and she came on deck with a cup of coffee and a pan of pre-baked cinnamon rolls that had just been warmed in the oven. They sat close together without speaking as the sun rose and burned away the mist.

The hatch was constructed with an inset glass panel that could be raised and a chart inserted. It could easily be viewed but was protected from the elements. They discussed the chart and decided to work their way about twenty miles north to a deepwater bay.

They had heard reports that although rare, some boaters had taken halibut from this bay. The thought of halibut steaks on the hibachi gave them a sense of anticipation. Eager to get underway, she went below and secured the cabin.

Clicks and creaks came from the winch as he worked at hauling in the anchor rode. When it was almost straight up and down he turned it over to her. A fair wind had come up and he decided to use the sails to pull the anchor free. He swayed in the throat and peak halyards, letting the sail luff. Sheeting the boom in, the boat slowly came on the wind and began riding over the anchor.

Ann signaled that the anchor was free and he let the main sheet run out while she brought in the anchor and stowed and strapped it to the deck. As the boat cleared the mouth of the bay she hoisted the jib and staysail, while he ran up the mizzen. Out in the open Sound, the wind was just ahead of the beam and blowing a steady fifteen knots.

The boat leaned as it pitched lightly, cutting through the swells and leaving a creamy wake beginning at the dolphin striker and disappearing aft. They sat to windward in the cockpit, his right arm around her shoulders and his left hand on the tiller.

By lunchtime, the sun was high and blazing. The water was sparkling with a million diamonds and the islands they were passing looked like so many emeralds. They had both peeled down to shorts, tops and cocoa butter.

The tide had turned about an hour ago and dead reckoning showed that they were making nearly six knots over the bottom. Ann said that she was hungry and went below to raid the ice chest. She came back on deck with thick meatloaf sandwiches and Seven-up.

After lunch, she went forward and stretched out on the fore deck, now and then feeling a cool spray as the bow dipped into a swell. The only sound was the rush of the water and an occasional creak from the rigging.

Her reverie was broken by the sound of a large powerboat overtaking them. She watched bemused at the mountain of water stirred up by the cruiser’s passage through the water. The people on board waved energetically and she waved back.

Jesse put the tiller over to quarter through the huge wake. The sails slatted as the boat rode over the wake. They could smell the diesel fumes for some time after the powerboat went by. She came back to the cockpit and they munched on wheat crackers and a homemade onion dip.

It was early afternoon when they made anchorage. They tied on halibut jigs and rowed the dinghy out into the bay. They sat for a long time, Ann reading a book and he fiddling with his fishing tackle. Several boats passed them heading into the bay.

All of a sudden his star drag started to scream. His rod had a healthy bend and he told her "this is no dogfish". He pumped the rod, gaining line a few cranks at a time. When the fish was still about fifty feet down they could see the flat shine of a halibut.

Hauling in a halibut is like trying to drag a sheet of plywood flatwise through the water. They don’t run and dart like a salmon, rather staying horizontal, powerfully trying to swim away. It is a real test of an angler’s skill and patience to land one on light tackle.

Ann leaned over the side of the dinghy, holding the gaff ready. As the halibut came up along side the boat, Ann sank the gaff in and excitedly pulled the fish into the dinghy. It was a fifteen-pound halibut and it’s wild flopping caused no small amount of concern in the little boat until Jesse subdued it with his fish knife.

When they rowed back to shore they found that the other boaters had gotten together and built a beach fire. They came over to admire the halibut and he suggested that they cook it on the beach fire and share it. While two of them filleted the halibut the rest of them raided their galleys.

The people from the one powerboat brought a heavy weight roll of aluminum foil and a jar of fresh hazelnut pesto. The others brought mayonnaise, olive oil, chopped garlic, salt, pepper and a thinly sliced lemon. Once the fillets were spread with the mixture and sealed in the foil they raked out a pile of glowing coals and set the foil packet on them.

They sat around talking and telling sea stories while the halibut cooked. When they pulled the fish from the fire and opened the foil they were bathed in an aroma of sensual delight. They sat on logs with plates on their laps and ate and talked about boats, harbors, storms, homeports and why they cruised.

More wood was put on the fire. It was driftwood and burned with tiny spurts of red, blue and green amongst the leaping yellow flames. One of the women brought out a guitar and began to play sentimental old favorites. After a time everyone shed their inhibitions and began to sing. They were pleasantly surprised at the quality of the harmony.

The fire burned to dying coals under a black sky with a full moon almost bright enough to read by. Jesse and Ann rowed back to the boat, lit the kerosene anchor light and collapsed into the berth.

At first Jesse thought that he was having a crazy dream and then realized that he was awake. The boat was pitching like a rodeo bronco and rolling to her beam-ends. His first thought was for the rigging. He was relieved as he remembered that they had carefully gasketed and covered the sails and lashed the booms and gaff securely. He had also wisely rigged a preventer on the tiller.

The temperature had dropped during the night. As Ann wrapped a fleecy robe around her and began picking up various small items that had come adrift, Jesse worked to get the stove burning. He was worried about back draft but found that the Liverpool head allowed a steady fire to burn, regardless of the gusts.

He raised the berth and pulled out his Zenith Transoceanic portable radio. Switching to the marine band, he could hear halibut schooners, purse seiners and tugs describing the strength of the storm at their locations. One Foss tug pulling two barges of gravel was reporting difficulty in maintaining steerageway.

Rotating the switch to the weather band, he listened as the announcer described the low- pressure area that had unexpectedly moved into the area. Current conditions and the forecast were the same; sustained forty knot winds with gusts to sixty knots. He was glad to be anchored in a somewhat sheltered bay but realized that the wind was coming from the southwest and blowing straight into the entrance.

They managed to brew some hot tea and warm a few biscuits in the oven, even though the continuous motion of the boat had diminished their appetites. Using the frame of a port light and two trees on shore as reference points, Jesse realized that when the boat pitched it was dragging the anchor with each rise.

They had been in this situation before and both knew what to do. They put on their oilskins and went on deck. Ann started the engine while Jesse put on his safety harness and worked his way to the fore deck. While Ann eased the boat forward he began hauling in the anchor rode. When the boat was over the anchor he took a turn around the gypsy and winched the anchor free of the bottom.

At his signal Ann eased the boat forward about sixty yards. As he dropped the anchor to the bottom she worked the boat about twenty yards to starboard. He lowered the big yachtsman anchor and as the rode came slack Ann began backing down. He continued to pay out slack on both rodes until he estimated a ten to one scope. Cleating both rodes, he watched as Ann let the wind carry the boat back against the ground tackle.

As the boat came up against the anchors Ann powered in reverse, setting the anchors deep in the sand. Fearing that the wind would probably shift, he got into the bobbing dinghy and rowed ashore with a length of half-inch line. He secured the line to a sturdy tree about twenty feet from shore and fought the wind and waves back to the boat. Securing the line with a stern bridle, he left enough slack to accommodate the pending tide change.

Jesse debated whether to hoist the dinghy onto the cabin and lash it into the chocks or let it ride the painter. He thought that it would do little harm, as he had recently replaced the bow pudding and decided it would be best to have the dinghy available.

They both carefully checked the boat over and went below. He set the alarm clock to remind him to check the stern line and anchors as the tide changed. They sat glumly for a time, rocking with the boat’s motion and staring through the port lights at the dark gray sky and sodden forest ashore.

Ann had finally endured enough of the doom and gloom, telling him to light the gimbaled lamp while she stirred up two hot toddies. Jesse laid out the cribbage board and soon they were teasing about whom was the biggest cheat. After two more toddies and three games of cribbage, the morning’s exertion caught up with them. They curled up in the berth like two nested spoons, oblivious to the weather and the motion of the boat.

The alarm awakened him. Slipping into his oilskins and southwester, he went on deck and adjusted the stern line. He looked around the bay and was relieved to see that the other three boats were still at anchor and seemed to be well secured. The wind was at gale force and causing the rigging to hum. He could see the trees on shore bending.

Sliding the hatch back just enough to go below, he took off his oilskins and hung them on the aft bulkhead to dry. He appreciated the fact that the little Neptune stove kept the cabin dry as well as warm and cozy. They had cruised on boats before that had only an alcohol stove and found it to be a little unpleasant in bad weather.

Their bodies had somewhat adapted to the violent motions of the boat and they decided that a light meal would give them a boost. Working together, they grilled two cheese sandwiches and filled two mugs with hot tomato soup. He tuned the radio until a station playing big-band jazz came on. The music was a perfect accompaniment to their dinner.

Ann curled up on the berth and continued knitting a turtle neck sweater she had begun at home, while Jesse studied his charts to find a suitable cruising destination for the next day, weather permitting. After a time he rolled up the charts and she set aside her knitting. They sat and talked and listened to the radio until their eyelids got too heavy to keep open.

Jesse got an extra blanket from the sail locker and put it on the berth. They knew it would get cold in the cabin when the stove cooled down. Cuddled under the covers, they could feel the wind pressing against the hull. The rain was hammering and lashing on the cabin and every so often a gust of wind would screech in the rigging and jar the entire boat.

The alarm went off every two hours and each time Jesse got up and checked the mooring lines to make sure that the boat wasn’t drifting. After the second time he got up Ann insisted on taking her watch, alternating with him. In between, they slept better than they had in a long time.

They had rigged the boom tent and sat under it in the wet cockpit, nursing coffee and beef jerky. The wind had subsided, the smoke from the stove rising straight up and the torrential rain pouring straight down. The beach was covered with deep piles of seaweed from the night’s storm.

After bailing the dinghy with a canvas bucket, Jesse rowed ashore and retrieved the stern line. Squishing through the piled up seaweed he had found a round glass Japanese net float. It had been in the sea long enough to have developed a slight purplish hue and was delicately sanded to a beautiful translucence.

Her delight was obvious as Ann accepted the float from him. She had a collection of these floats and had arranged a number of them, together with an aquarium and the remnants of a net in a corner of their living room. The display never failed to receive compliments from their guests.

The power cruiser engine fired up and as it warmed, the skipper worked his way forward, taking in the fenders and hauling in the anchor. He worked his boat over towards them and his wife and two children came out of the cabin and expressed their appreciation for the halibut dinner.

They said that they planned to cruise about eighteen miles north to Cold Bay, as another cruiser had told them that the crabbing there was the best it has been in years. After agreeing that they would all meet there for a crab feed if the rain quit, the sturdy Monk cruiser eased out of the bay and headed north. Sitting in the cockpit, watching the Monk ease out into the Sound and staring at the rain sliding off the boom tent in sheets, Jesse admitted to himself that inside steering does have some positive aspects.

Leaning over the side to rinse the cedar bucket, Ann noticed that the beach was extending out towards them. She asked him if he had checked their depth. He ducked below and came back with the tide book. It showed minus two feet in an hour. He dropped the lead line and read four fathoms.

They decided that it would be a good chance to dig some butter clams. Putting shovels and a bucket in the dinghy, they rowed ashore in the pouring rain. By the time they had a dozen clams in the bucket the rain quit and a pale sun shone weakly through the gray cloud cover.

There were two other boats left in the bay, one a large Herreshoff cat and the other an Alden yawl. The cat’s single cylinder auxiliary fired off and she headed out of the bay with much waving and promises to call when they got home. The Alden was a true yacht, replete with teak decks, brass fittings, glistening bright work and beautifully carved gold leafed trail boards.

Jim and Laura loaded shovels and a bucket into the Alden’s dinghy and rowed ashore to join in the clam harvest. When the two buckets were full, the women topped them off with seawater and stirred a handful of cornmeal into each one. They looked forward to a great meal of steamed clams later in the evening.

As the sun burned away the clouds the temperature climbed, prompting them to shed their oilskins. Jim rowed out to the Alden and returned with a cooler full of beer. While he was gone Jesse had waded out and gathered a bounty of large oysters for their lunch.

Ann foraged in the woods and found enough dry branches to start a roaring fire. She heaped on wood to quickly get a supply of hot coals. Sitting on logs, they drank the cool beer and talked about boats. Jim said that he thought he recognized Jesse and Ann’s boat as a Rudder Seabird, but then realized that there were major differences.

Jesse told them that when they were laying down the lines it began as a Seabird centerboard yawl but eventually come to be ketch rigged with three feet of built up keel, four feet of sturdy bowsprit and a boomkin. He said that he liked a low rig and so rigged her gaff on the main and Marconi on the mizzen. His only complaint was that with only twenty-six foot on deck, he couldn’t build her with standing headroom in the cabin.

Ann and Laura raked up a glowing bed of hot coals while Jesse and Jim wrapped the oysters in seaweed and placed them on the coals. When the steam died down and the seaweed started to brown, they raked the oysters off of the coals, unwrapped them and put a drizzle of melted butter on each one. They sat with butter dripping off of their chins, eating oysters and sipping cold beer.

Jesse asked Jim how he had gotten started in boating. Jim told him that his parents made some good investments and retired when they were quite young. They had circled the world in a ninety-foot schooner. Jim said that he was born just off the coast of Madagascar and so naturally became a sailor.

Laura said that she was an Army brat and had been born in Pearl Harbor. She had learned to sail almost as soon as she had learned to walk. She and Jim met when they were crewing on a friend’s six-meter. She said, with a play on words, that it was "luff" at first sight.

They talked for hours. As the shadows lengthened their lunch started to wear off and dinner became the topic of conversation. They all pitched in and got the fire up to a good roar. They rinsed the clams in seawater and then rinsed them again in fresh water, leaving a little at the bottom of each bucket. They put the buckets on the fire and covered each one with an old towel, followed by a heap of dry seaweed.

By the time the clams were done they had readied two small saucepans of melted butter and Jim had brought two bottles of Leibfraumilch wine from his boat. Ann had spread butter and garlic on a split loaf of French bread, wrapped it in foil and put it on the coals. She pulled the bread from the fire and tore it into warm, fragrant chunks. They sat and dipped and sipped, butter once again dripping from their chins.

When they were done, Laura got out her guitar and sang torch songs from the thirties and forties in a voice filled with bittersweet emotion and unrequited love. Just when they were all about to reach for a handkerchief, she shifted to Bluegrass and everyone’s toes began to tap. She ended with a rendition of "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" that brought Jesse to his feet, doing a spirited step dance.

They rowed back to their boats after deciding to get an early morning start and cruise together to Cold Bay. Warm and cozy in the berth, Ann turned to Jesse and said, "Now that’s what I call a nice day".

They were on a broad reach in about fifteen knots of wind, heading towards Cold Bay. Every so often a gust would bury the lee rail, the creamy sea foam running along the deck, surging against the cockpit coaming and flowing out of the scuppers. At a motion from Jesse, Ann eased the peak halyard. The boat settled into an easy rhythm over the light chop.

To Ann’s delight, five dolphins decided to guide their way. The dolphins would swim just ahead of the bow, seeming to be riding a pressure wave. They would then race ahead, shoot out of and dive back into the water and then return to guide the boat. As always, Ann was spellbound at the graceful beauty of these marine animals. She felt as if she were observing something mystical, even magical.

Headlands and islands covered with emerald green forests slowly passed astern. Every now and then there would be a house by the beach and sometimes a small town. People on the beaches and piers would wave, and Jesse and Ann would always wave back enthusiastically.

The wind picked up a little as they cleared a windward headland. Jesse ran the mizzen sheet just enough to ease the weather helm. Ann studied the chart in the windowed hatch, then took some sightings with a hand bearing compass. She told Jesse that if the wind continued they would raise Cold Bay in about three hours.

Most of the boats that they had seen were smaller boats close in to shore, trolling or drift fishing. As they sailed north on a port tack, they saw what appeared to be a large sailboat bearing south on a starboard tack. Jesse studied the oncoming vessel for a time, announcing to Ann that they were about to be in the presence of royalty. He had recognized her as the "Adventuress" out of San Francisco. She was a flush deck schooner yacht of close to one hundred feet on deck. Jesse and Ann agreed that she was probably the most graceful thing that they had ever seen.

Carrying a bone in her teeth, she seemed to fly down the Sound, her great white wings reaching high into the sky. As she got closer, Jesse and Ann could see that her crew was dressed in Jack Tar fashion, their hats each topped with a red pompom and a gold embroidered band reading "Adventuress". The skipper was standing at the wheel, splendid in his gold braid cap, blue blazer with gold buttons and Commodore’s insignia, immaculate white trousers and deck shoes. The lady standing at his side was wearing a filmy pastel summer frock, a large brimmed white hat secured with a pale blue ribbon and white gloves. As the schooner slipped by, the skipper, his lady and the crew all waved and saluted, as did Jesse and Ann.

Ann remarked that she was astounded at what seemed to be acres of teak bright work and flawlessly gleaming brass. Knowing how many hours of work it took to keep their little boat seaworthy she appreciated the effort it must take to keep that schooner shipshape and Bristol fashion.

Taking a few more bearings, Ann announced that they were about an hour from Cold Bay. She went below and came back on deck with a pan of apples and a paring knife. As she peeled the apples she threw the scraps overboard. The herring gulls screamed and dove as they fought over the peelings.

Jesse asked her what she was going to do with the apples. She replied that she was going to pack them down with spices and brown sugar and other good things, so when they anchor the boat and fire up the stove she could make apple Brown Betty. They had been too busy to think of lunch and were now quite hungry. They each ate an apple and a small bit of cheese that Ann found in the ice chest. They finished it off with bottles of ale.

They rounded up outside the entrance to Cold Bay and furled the sails. Ann started the engine and eased into the bay while Jesse secured the sail covers and removed the anchor lashing. The first thing they saw was Jim and Laura waving to them and motioning for them to come alongside their boat. Fenders had already been run out on the Alden.

Ann eased the Seabird along side the Alden and backed down, coming gently to rest against the fenders. Jesse tossed over bow, stern and spring lines to Jim, who secured them, and welcomed Jesse and Ann aboard. Laura brought a fresh pot of coffee and a tray of crackers and cookies and set them on the cockpit table. As they snacked they talked about their good fortune in hailing the Adventuress.

Jim said that one of the other boaters had recommended a general store that was about two blocks up a narrow road leading from the harbor. They all agreed that their galleys were running out of supplies, especially ice. Jim lowered his dinghy from the stern davits and they all boarded for a trip to shore. Jesse and Ann, who were used to rowing, admired the convenience if not the smell of the small outboard motor.

A sign saying "Cold Bay Market" greeted them as they walked up over a hill. The market was a long frame building with a roofed over wooden porch running it’s full length. There were benches all along the porch with a number of people sitting on them and talking.

They were pleasantly surprised when they entered the store and saw how well stocked it was. There was even a small meat market. The proprietor came over, introduced himself as Bob and welcomed them, asking them if this was their first trip to Cold Bay. They replied that it was, and that they were impressed by his well-stocked store.

Bob noted that the road in front of his store leads to the town of Cold Bay, a fair sized settlement, and that for eight to nine months each year many cruisers visit Cold Bay. Bob said that his first trips to Cold Bay were with his parents in their forty-foot Monk. Once he grew up he decided to go into business here so he could stay close to boating. They had noticed a well-maintained Monk riding a permanent mooring buoy when they came ashore. Bob told them that his parents were too old for boating and that they had passed the boat on to him.

Bob invited them to use the picnic area behind his store. He explained that each evening during cruising season he would fire up a large charcoal grill and invite everyone to cook on it. They went out back to look at the grill and found a delightful park-like setting, complete with picnic tables, benches and kerosene torches. People were already gathering and arranging their table settings.

They decided to take advantage of his offer and bought steaks, potato salad, Ballantine Ale and a small chocolate cake. Bob had put salt, pepper, flatware and plates on a table by the grill. He suggested that they put the dishes in a washtub on the back porch when they were through with them. There were sinks on the back porch and someone always volunteered to do the dishes.

As they cooked their steaks they met the other people using the grill. Most of them were cruisers with their boats in Cold Bay. In no time it was like a family picnic, everyone on a first name basis and talking about hometowns, cruising, boats and friends.

When the meal was over, Bob set a lumber camp sized pot of coffee on the grill and slipped into the straps of a huge mother of pearl one hundred twenty bass Hohner Accordion. After a few songs everyone started asking for favorites. Laura sang a soulful version of "What’s New". The audience applauded and kept coaxing her to sing song after song.

Everyone finally got up and pitched in to do the dishes. Jesse, Ann, Jim and Laura thanked Bob and told him they could understand why Cold Bay was a mandatory cruising destination. Jesse and Jim bought ice, while Ann and Laura bought eggs, ham steaks, bread, butter and strawberry jam for breakfast.

They motored back to their boats and sat in the cockpit of the Alden, sipping coffee with a splash of rum and reminiscing about their evening ashore. Jim looked up and pointed out a shooting star. It was a perfect end to a perfect day.

A skinny young boy with a shock of red hair, who appeared to be about thirteen, was buzzing around and between the boats in the bay. His tiny plywood hydroplane, obviously homemade and powered by a very noisy outboard motor of about ten horsepower, was throwing a wake that had every boat in the bay rocking. The fact that it was not quite 7:00 AM did not endear him to the other boaters.

Jesse stood in the cockpit and watched as nearly every anchored boat had a very irate person standing on deck, shaking a fist and shouting expletives. The miscreant speed demon got the message and fled up a creek at the head of the bay. Rather than vent anger, Jesse laughed, remembering some of the outrageous things he had done at that age.

Ann crossed over to the Alden to visit Laura, while Jesse and Jim wiped down their bright work. The Alden had a diesel galley stove, so breakfast was quickly prepared and enjoyed in the cabin. Ann finally managed to bake her Brown Betty. The smell of the baking apples and cinnamon scented the cozy cabin and drifted down wind. Jesse watched two young men in an 18’ cuddy cabin knockabout as they sniffed the wind. Jesse thought to himself that when the Brown Betty cooled, he would offer them some. Meals are of necessity very Spartan on a small boat.

Shutting the diesel stove down and opening all of the hatches and port lights was quickly accomplished as the sun began to heat up the bay. Jesse and Jim hoisted their sails to dry. They both knew that damp furled sails and warm weather encouraged mildew and could ruin the best Egyptian cotton sails in short order.

The girls came on deck in shorts and halter- tops, carrying blankets and pillows. They ensconced themselves on the fore deck, and after rubbing on cocoa butter, surrendered themselves to the sun’s rays. Jesse and Jim got in the dinghy, delivered some of the Brown Betty to the very appreciative college students in the knockabout and rowed around to the boats of the people that had shared yesterday evening’s good times with them. The bright blue sky and warm sunshine had everyone in a good mood.

One of the boaters was organizing a dinghy race. The idea was to have the skipper at the oars and blindfolded, while his first mate sat on the stern thwart and guided him by voice commands. The race was to start at the landing, circle the channel marker at the entrance to the bay and return to the landing. Jesse, Ann, Jim and Laura rowed their dinghies to the landing, along with about fifteen other boaters. Once the blindfolds were firmly in place a horn was sounded and the race was on.

Those smart enough to stay on board and not get involved and a number of people on shore were holding their sides, laughing so hard that tears came to their eyes. The sight of dinghies ramming together oars popping out of the locks and men hollering "Which way, which way?" while the women screamed "Left! No the other left" was hilarious to all except the participants.

When all had returned safely to the landing and a winner declared, glares flashed briefly between some of the skippers and their first mates. It was just too nice a day to hold a grudge and soon everyone was laughing as the onlookers described the race. Singled out for a ribbing was one sailboat skipper entrant that had kept hollering "Starboard! Starboard!" during the race.

The crowd thinned as people headed towards their boats for lunch. Ann suggested that they have toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch and that they invite the two college kids to enjoy a hot meal with them. They boys were delighted at the invitation, jumping in the bay and swimming over to the Alden. Laura dropped the swim ladder over the side and they scrambled aboard, shivering from the cold water.

Lunch was enjoyed on deck, as the stove had made the cabin too hot for comfort. The young men were very bright second year chemistry majors enjoying their summer vacation, roughing it in their little knockabout and living mostly on soda pop and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They told many stories of college life and sailing adventures, leaving a vacuum when they returned to their boat.

Sun, exercise and a full stomach soon took a toll. Laura yawned that it was naptime and they all agreed. A soft breeze flowed through the hatches and port lights of their boats, bathing them in comfort while they slept. Two hours passed before Jim stretched and swung his legs over the side of the berth.

While the others slept, Jim baited two crab traps and lowered them to the bottom. Arranging the cockpit cushions to his liking, he opened a bottle of ale and leaned back to enjoy the beauty of his surroundings. He watched as a school of fish boiled the surface of the water. He suspected that a harbor seal was feeding.

A small beam trawler, heading out of the bay, sounded a horn as it cleared the mouth of the harbor. Shortly thereafter both boats began rocking as the sleepy heads got out of the berths and started moving around. Laura called across to Ann and asked if she would like to go ashore for an ice cream bar. In a short time they were in the dinghy, the little outboard pushing them towards the landing.

Jesse and Jim rowed the Seabird’s dinghy, taking another turn around the harbor. An old 60’ retired Atlas tug was festooned with a border of dinghies, her decks awash with boaters. As Jesse and Jim grew closer the revelers waved them aboard.

The crowd was planning a potluck beach party behind the Cold Bay Market that evening. Bob, the proprietor of the market, was going to set a kettle of water over a wood fire so anyone who had been crabbing could cook his catch. After a lot of visiting and listening to a spirited rehash of the dinghy race, Jesse and Jim went back to their boats to check the crab traps.

With a bucket at the ready, they were just about to pull the traps when Ann and Laura came back with ice cream bars that were already starting to melt. Everything stopped while the men enjoyed the dripping treats. When they were finished they rinsed their hands in the bay and wiped the deck with a wet rag.

Laura squealed with delight when the full crab traps came aboard. There were eight crabs in one trap and seven in the other. After throwing the female and undersized crabs back into the bay, they were left with five lively, succulent crabs for dinner. The crabs were put in the bucket, covered with a towel soaked in saltwater and set in the shade of the cabin.

Jesse got out his sail maker’s palm and needles, pulled some linen thread over a block of bee’s wax and stitched a frayed area near the clew out haul cringle on the mizzen. Looking for something else to do, Jesse fastened his club’s burgee to a pig stick and hoisted it to the masthead. He mused that it wasn’t much of a hoist, as the Seabird was only thirty-one feet from gudgeon to truck.

Ann set up the folding table in the Seabird’s cabin. They all went below and played Bridge until they saw the other boaters starting their migration towards the landing. The crabs were loaded into the dinghy, along with Laura’s guitar and jackets in case the evening turned cool. Jim fired off the little outboard and in no time the dinghy was hauled up on the beach, the painter secured to a sturdy bush.

Bob had the kettle boiling like a witch’s cauldron and the other boaters were dumping crabs in a big communal tub. Ann and Laura thought that made sense, so they added their five crabs. There was a tripod affair made of old water pipe over the kettle with a block at the apex. A line ran through the block to a large basket fashioned from expanded metal plasterer’s lath. Sitting next to the fire on a small metal stand was a lidless teapot. Jim noticed several of the boaters put a pound of butter in the teapot, so he went into the store and bought butter to add to the pot.

The crowd visited for a time and a few of the skippers took advantage of two horseshoe pits near the edge of the clearing. As the shadows started to lengthen, Bob rang a small ship’s bell and asked if anyone was hungry. He received a strong affirmation and said, "The first batch will be out in fifteen minutes, better get a fresh cold one and fill your butter bowls".

With that, several brave souls started loading the basket with crabs. Bob quickly lowered the basket into the boiling water, filling the air with the wonderful scent of cooking crab. Before fifteen minutes had elapsed the boaters were queued up and ready for a feast. The crowd cheered when the basket came up out of the boiling water. Bob grabbed a hose and ran a brief stream of water over the crabs. The first dozen or so people in line each grabbed a crab and headed for a picnic table.

After much cracking and dipping, everyone was satiated and ready for some music. Bob once again got out his accordion and Laura her guitar. It was a wonderful combining of talent. They played song after song together and kept the crowd enthralled.

A night breeze came up and the temperature started to drop. They put on their jackets and went to the beach to launch the dinghy. Luckily, the tide had come in and the little boat was almost afloat. While they were tending to the dinghy, Laura went into the store and filled two vacuum bottles with coffee.

Laura and Ann went below in the Alden and lit the kerosene lamps while Jim and Jesse swung the dinghy into the stern davits. Laura set out the cups, put a splash of rum in each and filled them with coffee. They sipped coffee and talked for a long time. It was apparent to all of them that a bond had been formed.

The plans they made were not for the cruise and the moment, but for the months and years to come. Reluctantly, Jesse said that his vacation was ending and so he and Ann must leave early in the morning to get back to their slip at the yacht club. They all felt awkward as Jesse and Ann went back to the Seabird. In each of their minds they were wondering if they shouldn’t say, "I am going to miss you so much until we meet again", but grownups aren’t wont to do such things.

They cleared the bay at 6:00 AM, breakfast over, vacuum bottles full and the course for home laid out. The sun was hidden behind a slate gray sky and a drizzly rain was falling straight down. Jesse could feel the corduroy inset on the collar of his oilskins rub irritatingly on the back of his neck.

While Ann had been preparing breakfast, Jesse had wound the ship’s clock and tapped the barometer. It caught his attention when the needle indicated that barometric pressure had dropped to 28.4. Another low had moved in and he suspected that they might see heavy weather before getting home.

The drizzle slackened and a light south wind came up, conflicting with Jesse’s rhumb line which was due south. He and Ann one by one pulled the iron belaying pins from the pin rails and hoisted sail, raising the pins up high enough in the rails to belay the halyards under the shoulders of the pins once the sails were set. A quick pull on a pin would instantly release a halyard.

There was little traffic on the Sound so they shut down the engine and began a series of long tacks. Even though it was gray and wet, Jesse and Ann smiled as they felt the Seabird come alive beneath their feet. It was easy to believe that the little ketch was a living thing and having the time of it’s life.

Eight pure silvery notes came from the ship’s clock. Ann, who had been leaning against Jesse, suggested lunch. She went below and came on deck with ham sandwiches that she had made early that morning. They sat close together, eating sandwiches and drinking Seven Up.

It was early afternoon and they had just turned to a port tack, heading towards the peninsula about six miles west. Ann, sitting tight against Jesse’s side, bent her head over to press against Jesse’s head. He pressed back gently and Ann gathered up the remnants of lunch and went below.

The wind was freshening and they were coming up to an island that lay east of the peninsula. The waves were growing and they were occasionally taking green water over the bow. His two choices were to sail southeasterly and round the island to the main channel, then run the channel on a reach or head south into the narrow passage between the island and the peninsula. The passage lay due south and was too narrow to tack.

As the wind grew stronger, the waves in the Sound kept building. Jesse looked out across the water and saw the white caps being spun upward from the wave tops, the spume billowing and rolling across the surface. He decided that he would head south through the channel under auxiliary power.

Sails furled and engine pushing he steered the boat towards the channel that lay between the island and the peninsula. Just ahead of him and also heading into the passage was a 50’ Chris Craft and a 26’ Steelcraft cabin cruiser. Jesse had made a wind strength indicator from a piece of plywood. It looked like a slingshot with a flap suspended between the arms and a curved piece of plastic attached to the side of one arm. Jesse had stood in the front seat of a friend’s convertible and marked calibration numbers on the plastic.

The intensity of the wind grew as it funneled between the island and the peninsula. Jesse held up the wind gauge and read wind speeds of from thirty- five to fifty miles per hour. He and Ann both donned life jackets. Ann checked the forward hatch and port lights, making sure that they were dogged securely. The passage was five miles long and they braced themselves for a rough run to weather.

Great sheets of water sprayed out from the Chris’s bow as she plowed steadily ahead like a stately queen. Jesse had no doubt that her skipper was sipping a martini in warm comfort. The Seabird was dipping into the waves and taking green water over the cabin and into the cockpit, the foam swishing around Jesse’s feet and swirling down the cockpit scuppers.

He grew concerned as he pulled alongside the Steelcraft. She was barely making headway and he could see a man, a woman and two young children aboard. The two children, their faces pale with fear, were peering at him through the rubber mounted cabin windows. The woman pressed her face against a window and stared at Jesse, as if she were pleading for help.

Jesse called to Ann and told her be ready for an emergency. As the Steelcraft plowed into the waves her hull would rise thirty degrees and then slide back, falling heavily into the next trough. It was only a matter of time until she broached and put her passengers into the churning water.

As Jesse watched, the Steelcraft edged closer to the west of the passage. It was an agate beach, covered with round pebbles that were like children’s marbles. Ann and Jesse had spent a day at this beach, picking out beautiful quartz specimens for their aquarium.

There was a momentary lull in the wind. Jesse and Ann watched as the spray from the propeller of the Steelcraft surged out from under the transom and her skipper drove her at full power onto the beach. The beach was narrow and the boat slid all the way up to the high tide line.

The skipper was out and onto the beach as the boat settled on the starboard chine. His wife handed the two children to him and then he helped her off of the boat. The last they saw of them was as they walked towards the road that was at the beach edge. Jesse and Ann breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that a boat was lost but a family was saved.

Jesse wanted nothing more than a hot cup of coffee. Two times Ann handed him a cup but before he could drink it, green water came over the bow and flushed the coffee out of the cup. Ann disappeared below for a time, and then handed Jesse a weird object. She had doubled one of her socks over a pop bottle so Jesse’s hand would not be burned and filled the bottle with coffee. Jesse took a sip and felt his whole body rejuvenate as the coffee rolled around in his mouth and slid down to warm his stomach.

They finally cleared the passage and came under the promontory of the main channel. There was some protection from the souther and Ann asked Jesse if he wanted to set sail. They decided that being only three miles from the yacht club they would power the rest of the way.

Ann eased the boat into the slip as Jesse jumped onto the float and secured the lines. He had made up new mooring lines just before they left on their trip. He loved the feel of the tightly laid up golden manila and especially enjoyed making eye splices. He always remembered, "Worm and parcel with the lay, turn and serve the other way" when it came to the bitter ends.

Once the Seabird was secured, Jesse and Ann walked up to the clubhouse. The Ladies Auxiliary was meeting and there was a fire in the big rock fireplace. Jesse and Ann went up to the bar, ordered two hot buttered rums and collapsed into overstuffed chairs facing the fire. Jesse and Ann, knees touching, raised their drinks, saying to each other, "Here’s to the next cruise, darling, may it be soon".

THE END