On summer days on the water, we see what we are used to seeing: lobstermen about their work; little power boats buzzing here and there, soon come, soon gone; sailing yachts of various sizes and rigs. We see seals, porpoises, the occasional whale, gulls, ospreys, once in a while an eagle or a tern. These excite no great surprise or thrill beyond a pleasant appreciation. But once in a while, something breaks through the accustomed appreciation with surprise and delight.
When I could swim across New Harbor at the age of eight or nine, my father gave me a skiff with a centerboard and sail. I took long voyages in New Harbor and grew familiar with lobster boats, a smack, the MYRA J. WEBSTER, which delivered freight for the store, and the schooner WILLIAM KEENE that brought salt to the fish factory. One foggy morning as I beat slowly out of the harbor against a gentle easterly, there burst out of Back Cove a big Friendship sloop. Her graceful green hull, rail down, her tall rig and huge weathered mainsail were like nothing I had ever seen before. She was majestic, overwhelmingly powerful from the roll of foam under her clipper bow to her graceful stern. I was stunned – stunned and delighted. These things are not soon forgotten.
In more recent years we have sailed parties in our Friendship sloop EASTWARD and have become used to the usual passenger questions. “How fast will this thing go?” “What did it cost?” and such. We were teaching people from WoodenBoat School to sail. One student was shy, said she had never sailed before, was reluctant to try. I jollied her on to the wheel box. “It’s just like a Volkswagen.” And I explained the principles of sailing aerodynamics. Right away she took the wheel and sailed the boat to windward like an expert.
“You can’t tell me you never sailed a boat before.”
“No, but I am a commercial airline pilot.”
Surprise and delight.
Another party boat experience. We had a young couple and a pretty little girl about ten years old. Her father, it appeared, was a producer of artistic motion pictures who often worked in Italy. He had recently produced “Three Coins in a Fountain,” a film with a touch of fantasy. The girl asked innumerable questions. “Could we see a seal?” We found her a group of seals lying on a ledge and swimming about. One came quite close and smiled at her. Then a couple of porpoises rolled by and amazed her. We went ashore for a picnic on a grassy island. After lunch she asked to see a baby gull. That was going to be more difficult. We walked up through the grass among the rocks and we found a gull’s nest with an egg in it. There was a nick in the shell. We actually saw the new little gull peck his way out. Was this miracle enough for one day? On the way home she wanted to see a whale.
“No,” I told her. “Whales live in the deep ocean and we almost never see them close to shore.” But honestly and truly, my friends, this magical little girl conjured up a whale off Newagen.
Boats! I have seen all kinds of boats without much surprise. I saw even a seagoing automobile off Newport, complete with windshield wipers. Luxurious power yachts; SHEHERAZADE, a 154-foot ketch with a mast that touched the sky. A great three-masted schooner with topmasts on all masts and a British flag on her counter came into Boothbay before my eyes and I maintained my “cool.” But late one afternoon on a mooring off WoodenBoat School we saw emerge from behind Babson Island the square-rigged topsail schooner PRIDE OF BALTIMORE, coming up the Reach with the sunlight golden on her sails.
Surprise and delight.