The turtle’s head.
May 10th.Norfolk. Henry came back this morning. Just as I thought and hoped it would be, there is nothing to it now but woods, mountains and narrow valleys with cutting and slashing in the woods, big black holes in the mountains and roar of cars and machinery in the valleys. It is high time my anchor was up, my last jib bent and I homeward bound. Away to nice northerly breeze right after lunch. Tack for tack down river with plenty of chance to look over the shipping at anchor. Four big six-masters in port. Fine, noble looking vessels. Took last look at Norfolk Harbor and made out into the choppy water of Hampton Roads. Norfolk Harbor is the best we have seen yet and no sailor need worry about entering it at night for right at the head of it and high in the air there is an enormous electric sign blazing like a southern cross. The sign reads
“Annheuser BuschBudweiser”
and is a better mariner’s guide than any submarine bell. After nice, pretty afternoon sail we dropped hook in the bight back of Old Point Comfort.
May 12th.Comes clear and cold with Irishman’s hurricane. Beat the sun and kicked up my own son. Caught last of ebb out of Roads and was away up the beach with putt-putt. Fish traps everywhere and running miles and miles to sea. All rigged to leave a passage at end of each pound, so it was not hard to pick our way along shore. Broken trap poles, twenty to thirty feet long, water soaked and only just afloat, made things a bit interesting, but we got by and taking a fair tide and nice air at northeast we bowled her along smartly and put her to bed back of Cherry Pt. near Stingray Light at 5 o’clock, forty-five miles nearer home.
Everybody catching crabs on long trawls. Millions a day it must be. Had soft shells on toast for supper. Terribly good eating and never had anything to crumb itself so handily. Dip ’em in egg and then they do their own wriggling about in the crumbs. Fresh from the water they are mighty sweet and so juicy they explode in the pan, which endangers the life of the cook.
May 13th.Comes fair with wind hauled fresh southwest and every promise of a smashing good run. Up and off early. No strength or driving power to the wind, which coming off the land was hot and without zip. It soon petered out and we had to get kicker to work.This constant motor business gets mighty tiresome but it is mighty necessary here-a-way. Wind hauled by north and way around into east where it hung all day so lightly as to just keep sheets broad off and tripping on water. The sun poured down mighty hot and a swarm of flies invaded us, which even the screens failed to keep entirely out of the cabin. We crossed mouth of Potomac River under very different conditions from those last winter when the launch pulled adrift in the cold, driving norther. Had a strong head tide all day and couldn’t reason it out. I despaired after counting nine hours of its running. Weather didn’t look too good in afternoon and I was glad to slip into St. Jerome Inlet about four o’clock where we promptly went aground, and from the fish wharf as promptly came the drawling cry, “Come off as ye come on,” which we did in workmanlike shape, our Floridian experience counting for much in this line. Anchor down and we were at once boarded by visitors. From 5 o’clock until 9:30 there was no time when there weren’t from two to seven men perched like pelicans on cockpit railing. H. did good work and kept things going until we had our supper when I entered the game and lied steadily until they all left. H. complimented me on several brand new ones, but I feel he may as well pick up a few points for he may have to sell insurance himself some day.
May 14th.The night a bit stuffy with air filled with smoke. My chin-chin last night sort of started things going a bit and I passed an old-time restless night and had breakfast cooked and served by five o’clock this morning while H. was snoozing it out. The little inlet is most attractive and was at its best this morning with blue smoky air and fresh spring green. Yesterday we learnt something about the tides which in spring of the year on account of freshets inland and strong breezes often turn and run ebb for days at a time. We have also learnt something about the hardy fisherman of Chesapeake Bay and his wonderful seaworthy buckeye. Tell your folks “tain’t so.” On any light, fair day the bay is dotted with sail, but let the breeze prick on and in no time at all there is not a sail in sight. Every mother’s son of them scoots into his near-by harbor. Beyond a mile or two each way they have no knowledge of the shore, and are completely ignorant of where they are as compared to anywhere else. A sixteen year old boy on board yesterday asked us if we drew our own charts, and the captain of a fisherman had never heard of Hatteras and didn’t know how far it was to Norfolk or to Baltimore, and had never been to either. When duck shooting in the winter they still use carronades,but have a line and buoy hitched to them. The game warden always signals when he is coming and then they throw the carronade overboard so he won’t have to find it. If the warden failed to signal and did catch anyone, why they would just naturally have to shoot him up, so wardens become quite careful in the matter. When it comes to game and their rights to it, the West Virginian mountaineer and his whisky still has nothing over these beachcombers.
May 15th.Turned out 4:30 and away with kicker at 6. Coldish this morning, cloudy and light chilly air at north dead ahead. This western shore of Chesapeake is very beautiful indeed along here. High bluffs of reddish clay rimmed with a white sand beach and topped by heavy growth of pine and poplar. Little gullies between sharp hills to the water’s edge and in them the morning mists lie blue. Ideal camp conditions for an October cruise in a little sharpie. Would send her to Baltimore on steamer. Must try that some day when I grow a bit younger. Would want something light to pull on the beach and use my tent for shelter. Breeze freshened sharply to a wholesail outfit and sea made up at once. Nothing doing for Mascot who just jumped up and down. Would have lost patience with any other boat, but bless your heart, this boat is too good. An hour and wind was all gone, leaving a miserable hubble-bubble of a sea into which we plunged to the knightheads. After two hours things straightened out and we got kicker to work and finally, wind hauling fresh from south, we ran to good anchorage in Annapolis by 4 p.m.
May 16th and 17th.Annapolis in heavy northeast rain and blow.
May 18th.Were late turning out. Glass falling, wind dropping, rain stopping. Blow over, so up yank and off in dead calm about ten o’clock. Didn’t calculate to more than jog along a few miles, but breeze hauled out about south, sea smooth and beautifully blue under bright, clearing sky. Tide turned fair. The Maryland shore all beautifully green after the needed rain and first thing you know we had a bone in our teeth and were bruising water in great shape. It was as beautiful an afternoon’s sail as we have had the whole trip and at evening we anchored her in a little cove 55 miles from Annapolis and with the old Chesapeake behind us. No one who has not done it, can possibly appreciate what it means to follow up the spring along these shores. To leave that dreary, swamp-ridden land of Florida and slowly watch the spring unfold until here, with one big burst, it is around you in all its glorious beauty.
May 19th.The sweetest, prettiest spring morning that God’s sun ever shone on. The air so cool and fresh, the sunshine so bright and warm. The river narrow and bordered either by big overhanging trees or wide, sweeping meadows freshly green. Mile after mile as through an English land in June. We entered the Delaware and Chesapeake canal where it was still more beautiful with the Scotch broom a glorious yellow and all the other flowers nodding from the banks. The canal itself taking reflection of the mass of foliage was an indescribable, translucent green and all the world was wonderful. There is but one midway lock to this canal, and passing it we were in the basin of Delaware City by one o’clock. A waspish northerly air was blowing down Delaware River and tide was rushing ebb before it, so there was nothing to be done but wait. Wind slacked by night and tide setting fair by six we locked out and accepted our chance by the light of a full moon in cloudless sky. To quietly steal up a big, swiftly running river by moonlight is a grand thing to do, and when the river is full of the busy life of a great port it is mighty impressive from the cockpit of a little boat. Always on my tongue’s end was
“If upon your port is seenA stranger’s starboard light of green,”
“If upon your port is seenA stranger’s starboard light of green,”
“If upon your port is seenA stranger’s starboard light of green,”
“If upon your port is seen
A stranger’s starboard light of green,”
but rules of the road don’t apply as between ocean-going tugs with barges intow, ocean steamships bound to sea, and 24 foot catboats. Not much they don’t, and it was me for the shadow of the shore and 15 feet of water or maybe less. At eleven o’clock we dropped hook among the yachts off the Corinthian Y. C. of Philadelphia, and after a good welch rarebit turned in more than satisfied with this two days’ trip from Annapolis.
May 20th to 24th.At Philadelphia off Clubhouse of Corinthian Y. C. where we received every courtesy and were made to feel quite at home. The old “square-faced” man at the Club asked me how the launch got so smashed up and when I told him of our experience in the inlet he replied “Dat outside run is tamned dangerous for de sailboats. De motorboats, dey takes one nice, calm days and goes right along, but de sailboats takes one nice calm days and day stays just there and when de next day comes dey gets racked. I have done so twict and I goes no more.” He hits it about right.
May 24th.We took the turn of the flood and with cloudy, squall-breeding skies were off up the Delaware. A good breeze at northwesthelped along and we soon worked up through the crowded, busy section of the River off the wharves of the city. Then we came to the big, iron railroad bridge, to go under which at night had scared us so on the way down. It looked just as bad today and as we went at it I thought the mast must surely come out. Then on and on with the river growing more narrow and more beautiful with banks lined with finely kept lawns shaded by beautiful trees. And so with kicker, sail and tide we made the entrance to Delaware and Raritan canals at Bordentown where we locked in and tied up in the basin for the night.
May 25th.Sunday and no business done in the canal. Last night the sky faired clear and bright with a snap to the air almost of frost. I had an old-fashioned night and was up before the dawn. I moved about very quietly and only sang “Palm Branches” once, but it was enough, and H. turned out at five muttering something about wishing he could be in the sticks with coons and wildcats where he could get his rest. That boy seems to have no appreciation of music. A nice, quiet, beautiful day spent alongside the canal slip. Nothing to be mentioned except a picnic held by the mule drivers under a big tree across the canal. They foregathered about 9 a.m. and devoted themselves unreservedly to getting drunk. It was wonderful to see how quickly and how completely they accomplished their purpose. By noon, none of them could stand but they crawled about on hands and knees until four when everybody fell where he was. It began to rain at sundown, but when we turned in at nine we could still hear guttural attempts at song from the shadow of the tree.
May 26th.Were stirring early, but no earlier than the mule drivers who had spent a wet night across the stream. They were on hand with a fresh supply of bottled happiness and when we pulled our freight they were merrily starting in on another picnic. The day came bright and fair with everything looking spick and span after the night’s rain. Have looked forward to a day in this canal in springtime for many a year and was not disappointed. England, the Thames, and June come fairly near to what we saw today. In lots of ways this canal trip was raw and crude in comparison with the Thames, but it had points which seemed to me more beautiful. Thirteen locks and countless drawbridges made the day a busy one and we were ready to turn in early after tying up to a wharf in New Brunswick about seven in the evening. In late afternoon the wind hauled chill, northeast, and rain fell during the night.
May 27th to 28th.Lay New Brunswick in heavy northeaster.
May 29th.Faired away clear and cold northwest during night and this morning felt as brisk and snappy as it did last November, when we got our first ice on deck here. Provisioned up and then locked out of our last canal and started down Raritan River. It was blowing very smartly northwest, just how smartly I didn’t find out until I put single reef mainsail to her. A wooly came over the high shore and things began doing at once. Got the canvas off before we landed in a meadow, but it was close work. Tore a hole in the sail and turned everything upside down below. A glass jar full of roses turned a complete somersault and lit standing on the floor without spilling a drop of water or losing a rose. We tucked in another reef and then had all the rags we wanted. It was cut the pigeon’s wing all the way down the river. At the Perth Amboy drawbridges we had to drop peak for safety sake. When we shot through the second draw it meant the last one on this cruise.
Map A.
May 30th.Comes cool and pretty. Crew up and remarkably eager for business. Was shaking out reefs and hoisting sail before I had cabin done up. Coney Island is a wonderful attraction for little boys. Away under single reef with breeze pricking on. Good track, and horses trotting fast. Went down the Staten Island shore fluke-o. Mighty different going from what we found on same stretch last November. Breeze pricked on so determinedly we laid her to and clapped in double reef which gave us handsome canvas. Away and across the big river with the ocean liners steaming to sea and the towers of Coney Island ahead. Dropped hook off Atlantic Yacht Club just in time to see it go into commission for the season. Pretty sight, with guns banging, bunting fluttering. Busy mending torn mainsail and in ship duties all afternoon. Dolled up and to Coney Island for supper for the evening. Spent it on roller coasters and shoot the chutes. There was a big crowd, it being Memorial Day, but everybody happy and orderly. Enough rum to sink a ship, but nobody the worst for wear.
May 31st.Got away by noon on turn of the tide and worked up river. Started into East River with kicker astern and no sail as breeze was ahead and flukey. Got by Governor’s Island and ran right into a most pernickety tide rip. Things began doing immediately if not sooner. Mascot lost steerage way and started turning around and round while tide swept us down onto a loaded barge at a Brooklyn dock. Got H. into launch and started it backwards with just power enough to stop her from crashing bowsprit on barge. Then we drifted helplessly alongside, but the backwater acted like a cushion and whilewe surged up to within a few inches of those iron shod fenders we just didn’t strike and when tide washed us the whole length of barge, I stepped off and caught a line to a bit and so we swung her into the slip unhurt. It was just as near to wreck and sinking as you can come and not do it. To have hit that barge one clip would have stove us from stern to stem and we were missing it only by inches at every lunge. For a short ring turn to, it did beat all. “What next,” says I. H. about this time said just a little more than necessary about waiting for tide to slack or until next day when traffic was less. Had he been a hired man, I might have said something. Wished I could have steadied her with the sail but to spread it in that rip was simply to tear it out of her, so I got H. into the launch and with a good long towline made another start and fetched clear all right although I rolled good, wet water over both cockpit railings and H. did some most extraordinary high jumping in putt-putt. From then on down to Hell Gate, it was back and forth across the river trying to find a way between the rips and avoid being swept into the docks. Everybody on tugs and steamers had a wave of the hand for H. who was clinging on for dear life with one hand and hauling tiller line with the other. With Mascot lunging and rolling along behind it was a very pretty game to keep enough steerageway on the launch to be able to meet the combing seas as they came along from every quarter. The steamers all knew it was a sporting proposition and gave him a good berth for we were quite powerless to do more than keep away from the docks. It is no fitting place for small sailboats and I would never try it again unless towed behind a barge or very early in morning before traffic gets busy. We swept through Hell Gate all right and thinking things were quiet enough, put launch astern. In five minutes we were spinning top in another rip and before we could get Mascot in hand we ran over a big spar buoy which tore the rudder off the putt-putt, but fortunately didn’t smash the propeller as H. was on the job and shut off engine before we struck. Then to a quiet anchorage off the Knickerbocker Y. C. station at College Point.
Here we found the 60 foot motor houseboatBuffalowhich we have seen very often during the winter. The owner’s wife came over presently and told us her husband had been down three weeks with pneumonia but was now sitting up and wanted us to come on board for a gam, which we did. He and wife have lived on the boat for years, and charter it to go south in winters and cruise north in the summer time. She does the cooking for the outfit and he tends engine andruns boat. He was the first one we have seen to really know the game up and down the coast, as he had done it for years. He told us we were the only boat he had ever known to make the trip both ways under sail. He said he made a very good living but that motorboating was about the same as driving an electric car and in the end would turn a man to drink. We were to go over in morning and do a few things about the boat, for the wife has had busy days playing cook, crew and nurse for three weeks on a big boat. My hat is off to her.
June 1st.Lay at anchor.
June 2nd.Waked at 4 a.m. to find pouring rain and brisk breeze. Wind hauled quickly to northwest and pricked on a regular spring tartar. Quite a jump of sea and run of tide with everybody doing the ladies’ change. Tide turned and wind easing, we were under way with single reef and had the prettiest sail ever, eight miles down East River to Port Washington where anchored with fleet of well-kept yachts and most attractive houseboats. I have an idea the houseboat game is bound to grow. There is a lot in it.
June 3rd.Comes calm and fair. Looks mighty homelike to be once more surrounded by a fleet of well-kept yachts. Seemed as if I was in public garden pond for next to us was a motorboat named Leda and if that isn’t a swan-boat then mythology ain’t so. Breeze came light and pretty at southwest so we up sail and after taking a look at pretty Manhasset Bay, squared away down the shore and by three in afternoon were at snug anchor in Oyster Bay. We have beaten the spring lately and find here the scrub-oaks only in their young green. The highlands along here are just now at their very best and beautiful houses are snugged in among wonderful trees. The little bays make far into the green-clad hills and it is all very tempting to stay and loiter.
June 4th to June 22nd.We very lazily and with much content, quietly cruised eastward in Long Island Sound. We had fair skies and pleasant breeze and stopped on our way at Black Rock, New Haven and the Thimble Isles amongst the picturesque rocks of which I had not dropped a hook since I was a boy in my little boat, theRaven. Then merrily with piping northerly airs and dancing seas all sparkling in the sun to New London where I left H. to keep ship while I went to Cambridge for the 25th reunion of the class of ’88 the finest and most remarkable class that was ever graduated from Harvard College. On returning to New London we saw the Harvard crew show fourhandsome miles of rudder to “them Elis” and then spreading canvas we jogged along to a quiet night behind Point Judith breakwater and manned halliards for the last time next morning and with kicker kicking, pointed her nose for Potomska and the Pascamanset where we just caught the tide on the bar. The little chain rattled, the blocks sung their song and with a shake of the hand the cruise was done.
8 Months, 8 DaysfromPort to Port