The boy, me and the cat

The Cruise of the Mascot
October, 1912-June, 1913

All Hands and the Cook

Henry M. Plummer
Henry M. Plummer, Jr.
and
Scotty

New Bedford, Massachusetts, September 15, 1912.

The Mascot is an old-fashioned Cape Cod catboat 30 years old. Her dimensions are, length overall 24 ft. 6 in., waterline 23 ft., beam 10 ft., draught 3 ft. 6 in. With self-bailing cockpit she is as safe and able a little ship as a man could want to go to sea in. Cabin accommodations are comfortably ample for two men and include a small shipmate stove near gangway on port side, a well-filled bookcase forward on starboard side, two roomy transoms and plenty of storage room.

Today we hauled out on marine railway to paint and also had a 3-horsepower engine installed in our 15 ft. dory skiff. Mighty busy days settling up business matters and attending personally to every detail of outfitting for Henry is new to the game and can be of very little help at this time.

Was giving a man some help on a capstan when a post pulled out of the ground and a big block and chain snapped in, catching me on the leg and putting me out of commission and into bed for four, pretty uncomfortable days. Visions of weeks on my back with splintered leg bone were finally ended when, with a little sharp click, a misplaced tendon snapped back and I was soon hobbling about. Made a mental note never to try and help anyone again.

October 10th-11th. Made sail in afternoon and worked round to Padanaram where the next day we received visitors, drank luck and happy days to the boat, said good-bye, hoisted pennant of New Bedford Yacht Club, and in late afternoon slipped down river in very light airs.

October 12th. At 3 o’clock this morning with aid of little launch we towed across the bar and dropped anchor off my Potomska farm in the Pascamanset River which flows into Buzzards Bay between Meshaum Pt. and Barneys Joy just northerly from Cuttyhunk, the most westerly of the Elizabeth Islands.

October 14th. Mighty busy cup o’ tea this morning. Tumbled all the “last things” on board. Crawled under the shed, caught the cat, rubbed her full of flea powder, and dropped her into a gunny sack to moult. Will have troubles enough without fleas.

Good-bye to brave mother, and with a white apron waving from the cottage door, we slipped moorings and stood to sea with fair tide and light westerly breezes. Employed crew in ship’s duties and with sheets flattened in we made it a long and short leg passing inside of Hen and Chickens reef and so to quiet anchorage for the night at Sakonet.

October 15th. Turned out 5 o’clock. Sun rose very angry and glass falling. Wind strong at west. Double reefed and under way by 10. Wind slacked and left us rolling without headway. Had to put on whole sail to work off shore. Breeze began to freshen at once from S. W. Lots of coot and I tried my luck with the gun and knocked down one with each barrel for a long chance. We got one and so began living on the country. Breeze pricking on very fresh. Launch unshipped rudder and Henry had to jump on board and save it. This he did well and he shows great aptitude in everything. Breeze increasing and sea very heavy so dropping peak ran back to cove under west shore. Wind suddenly shifted and came out fresh gale N. W. Double reefed again and went out to look things over and test boat and rigging. Found a fearful sea on, into which we plunged at times to the mast. Our davits held all right. Kept jogging along and ran into Newport at 9:30 after a long, hard day. Took a heavy squall off Fort Adams and cut all kinds of pigeon wings with water flying and halliards, too. Thought we would surely sink the launch, but found only a few inches of water in her next morning.

October 16th. Lay at anchor all day. Did shopping, etc., etc. Made a fine corn pudding. Found the cow’s horn on our bowsprit end had been badly twisted in the blow of yesterday and got ready to mend same. Will here explain that I was carrying spinnaker pole, spears, harpoons and spare truck in general lashed, one end on small davits and forward end resting in an iron half hook or horn bolted on end of short plank bowsprit.

October 17th. Fine day with very strong breeze from S. W. Crew engaged in ordinary ship’s duties and mending bowsprit horn. Kitty doing fine. Not sick a bit. Tried to make her sleep in basket last night instead of on my neck and result is she has disappeared under transom and won’t come out at all today in spite of all hands calling Kitty! Kitty! and a nice plate of chowder waiting.

October 18th. Gale blew out in night and morning came bright, fair with nice breeze S. S. W. Up at 5 and under way with single reef by 9. Looked over the German cruiser Victoria Louise and also one of our battleships. Then flattened in sheets for a long beat to Pt. Judith. Beautiful day with easy sea and crew engaged in ship’s duties and sewing launch fender. Some little hubble-bubble outside and coot stew slopped over on Scotty but did not scald her. Later while asleep in her basket the beans came flying to leeward. She heard them on their way and escaped from under by a flying leap to cockpit. Quite a day for Scotty. Henry had his first taste of coot stew while laid to off Narragansett Pier. He tucked away a good bit and held it down. Shook out our reef and ran into Pt. Judith Pond at 4 P. M. after a fine day to windward. Tied right up to the bank of the marsh just like alongside a dock. A fascinating place with great possibilities. Fisherman gave us a fresh mackerel for supper.

October 19th. Comes cloudy with freshening S. W. breeze. Owly looking weather. More mackerel from kind friend. Flock of tired geese came near giving us a shot. Off by 9 under single reef. Very crooked water and heavy ground swell. Drove along easily and made good weather. Crew engaged in cleaning and splitting mackerel on new fish board which works fine. Later salted mackerel down. This looks like living on the country. Slipped in behind inner breakwater at Stonington by 3:45 after a hard thrash against heavy seas and wind with threatening skies. Six days from home and only 60 miles away and every mile fought for.

Good supper of corn soup and hot biscuits. Henry delights me with sounds of contentment wrung from the jew’s-harp. Scotty is picking up heart and investigating the deck.

October 20th. Comes fresh, clear and cold N. W., an ideal day for getting on but as we only have to make New London we stayed quietly at anchor after good breakfast of fried clams and potatoes. Engaged in snugging up and finding things still lost since starting. Scotty beginning to play nicely. Lunched and slipped quietly away about 1 o’clock. Light airs but fair tide and a beautiful bright blue sky and sea, with shore of browns, greens and vivid reds. Four o’clock found us becalmed off mouth of the Thames so Henry started the bug and away we went 35 min. to the old anchorage off the coal pockets. Passed a familiar looking old packet on way up river. She was slowly beating in with only two men on board. She proved to be the schooner yacht Ruth and indeed sadly fallen in estate since I sailed a Goelet race in her so many years ago. I wonder if I, too, look so done up.

October 21st. Comes beautifully bright with fine easterly breeze and we should have been moving. Gave up the day, however, to fitting cover to launch. It was a very busy but satisfactory day and ended with a fine hot bath on shore with beefsteak supper to follow.

October 22nd. Comes again beautiful with again that fresh breeze at E. S. E. We are both feeling effects of our hard preparatory work and strenuous days following, and so it is 10 o’clock before we are half down the river. Once out and away, we begin to bruise water in great shape. Finally hove to and rigged spinnaker in spite of quite a rolling sea. I hoisted it and with a cheer we broke it out to as fair and pretty a breeze as ever christened a new sail. And how we legged it then and when tide turned some more. For seven hours we never started sheets or halliards. Warmed by the kindest of suns, pulled by spinnaker and mainsail, pushed by whitecapped, sparkling waves and hurried by a sweeping tide, we ran by the beautiful Connecticut shores and drove into New Haven 50 miles from our start at 7 p.m. We were well tired, but we had covered as much ground in nine hours as had taken a week till then. We snugged up and sat down to two great bowls of tomato clam bisque which I had been at work on. Oh, it was good and we tucked a lot of it away and then rolled into our bunks for good long sleep, but did we get it? Nit.

October 23rd. Starts at 1 a.m. for mine and about 2 a.m. for Henry. Tomato clam bisques are not good in bulk for tired stomachs. Least said about this day the better. Our spirits went as low as the barometer which dropped 7/10 inch for a nasty S. E. gale which drove in a sea that kept us rolling all day at our anchor. Henry recovered promptly, but yours truly was in his bunk all day. I got lots of sleep, however, which I knew just what to do with. Night came with a storm and rain and roll and pitch, but I was better and slept well. For three miserable days we lay rolling scuppers to while the heavy southeaster drove the rain swishing across decks. My eyes gave out completely, and I spent most of my time clinging to my transom and renewing bandages.

October 26th. Up at 4 a.m. and after a “Jolly boy” which consists of a fried ship’s bread, and a mug of cocoa, we up anchor and started. No wind, but clearing skies. The beautiful hunter’s moon in the west and a glorious red sun popping out of the sea in the east. We took a strong westerly breeze outside breakwater and thought we were in for a good smash to windward. It soon all gave out and for the whole day we just worked flukes along the shore and anchored at 4 p.m. behind the Stratford breakwater with only a dozen little miles to our credit. We saw more ducks than I ever saw before. Literally by the thousand and by the acre. I was too afraid of game wardens to try the shotgun, but Helen Keller, the name we give to the 22 cal. with silencer, whispered close to a number but failed to touch meat. There were coot, white wings, whistlers, shell drake, skunk heads, and thousands of black duck. Night came beautifully. Calm and clear. The eye better and with a patch and blue glasses I was fairly comfortable.

October 27th. Turned out at 4 and under way at 4:30 in cold, snappy morning with fresh northerly breeze and Henry mighty glad to wrap my knit scarf round his neck. Caught the tide just at the turn and away we went with that glorious moon to the west and the old crimson sun popping up behind us. Eye turns out better, and I am less anxious about it. Think too much Pond’s Extract with its alcohol made much of the trouble. Alcohol has but one fit place and that internal. With started sheets we did bruise the water unmercifully hour after hour. The breeze freshened all the time and we were soon carting more canvas than was prudent so ran in under lee of a point and doused sail for a single reef. Here I distinguished myself by tying in two second reef points and tearing two nice holes in my new sail when we hoisted. Age will tell. Away again, and Henry shot a crippled coot which we got. At this time the chief engineer reported fire in the hold. The captain returned answer that he didn’t care a ... how much was in the hold if there was enough in the stove for breakfast so we let her burn. Sheet of asbestos not enough under stove and wood beneath was charring. Officers allayed the fears of the passengers, and crew were employed in ordinary ship’s duties which prevented panic. Off Stamford a Sunday fishing party of five men in a rowboat was sighted being blown out into the Sound. We responded to their frantic waves of distress. Made a sporting pickup and towed them in under the land to calm water. Then off and away again. The Sound narrowing up. Execution Rock in sight. Traffic increasing. Passed Execution Rock at noon, and entered the beginning of East River and caught the Western Hell Gate tide all right. Here the wind left us and we shook out reef and made slow going to the Gate where we boiled through on the rushing tide.

Hardly passed the Gate when all wind failed. We lost steerage way and being caught by a swirling back eddy went head on plump into a barge alongside the dock. Then we waltzed around a few times, took a little puff of wind and plumped bang into the barge again. Broke ends off our fish poles and smashed our fish grain pole, and as we were preparing for another dive at the barge and the boat completely out of control, I ordered Henry into the launch and with mother’s helper away we went fluke-o down the river. Henry touched the high places when the ferry boats kicked up the seas, but he stuck in and the little bug never missed a turn. So to Ellis Is. where Henry came on board, and as night shut down we found our way into the Erie Basin and tied up snug and quiet behind the big steam yacht Aphrodite. It was a long day well put in. I don’t think I ever had twelve hours of fair tide before. We made 60 statute, and about 54 nautical miles and that’s some going for a 24-foot boat. Scotty, who has been pretty peevish during the last few days, began picking up to-day, and shows signs of being a sailor after all. If Henry had any mind, he would make a dandy, for his appetite is good. My eye stood the long day well, and I turned in feeling that it was distinctly on the mend.

October 28th. Found us all snug in Erie Basin with warm sun to cheer the cockles of our hearts. I devoted the whole day to patching my torn sail. I took lots of time and care and hope to look at the two patches with pleasure for months to come. Henry took down the stove and put in more asbestos and made an air space with hope of averting another holocaust. Fred Hussey called at 4 p.m. and took Henry to Orange for the night and Scotty and I were left to keep ship alone. Finally I left Scotty and made my way up town for a good dinner. Back to the boat mighty early, for the surroundings of Erie Basin are not conducive of late saunterings. I bet they gave it the name Erie after nightfall. Great stretches of black water half covering blacker stretches of mud. A lonely, unlighted road leads across made land and marsh. Blast furnaces flare up unexpectedly. Trip-hammers pound on iron. Dogs follow and snarl at your heels. Hound’s Ditch, London, must have been like it. No, I don’t fancy the Erie Basin at night where the electric cars stop en route while driver and conductor get a drink in the neighboring bar and light up their cigarettes. Scotty greeted me on my return and was soon muzzling into some chicken hash which I brought back from my dinner. I have to order my meals according to what I think Scotty wants and not at all as I feel appetite for. When waiter isn’t looking I scoop a lot into a piece of paper and jam it into my pocket.

From October 28th to November 1st we lay in Erie Basin enjoying fine weather, and occupied every minute in fitting ship and making ready for the days and weeks to come. There is a raft of things to be done to insure comfortable living on a small boat, and it is always difficult to stick to completion of essentials first. I want to write a book and call it the “Magnification of the Non-essential.” I wonder if I thought that title up myself or cribbed it somewhere. Henry worked hard and well, is making a good shipmate and seems to have a sailor’s heart in him. When we go to town from here we pass the India Docks where Henry’s grandfather Morgan fitted out his clipper ships for the adventures of the sea.

November 1st. Comes cloudy with light rain. Wind S. E. and sharply falling glass. Weather has been too kind to kick at a little change. Up early and leave the nasty, slimy Erie Basin at 8 o’clock. The launch is a sight. All grease brown. Head tide but strong whole sail breeze and we made good time on port tack, hugging the Brooklyn shore as far as the Narrows. Here the wind hauled due south, and we made a stretch over to Staten Island, where I took a few chances and nicked the tide close to the beach for half a mile. Then the wind failed under the high land, and we stretched over to Long Is. again. Worked that shore hard and wind freshened but hauled S. W. right in our teeth. Wind kept coming. We beat through inside Fort Lafayette and were carrying plenty of canvas in quite a chop. Now what a comfortable boat this is. Here we were with rail all awash and lunging to it, with heavy rain squalls driving over. I lighted my fire all warm and comfy below, and in an hour sat down to a roast of beef and baked potatoes. We crossed the river once more with wind increasing and rain sheeting down and the sea fearfully crooked. We had six miles dead to windward at entrance to Raritan Bay. We lugged the sail to her mighty hard for the sea was nasty enough and we had to crowd her to make any headway. All our poles and gear stayed on the davits, but we lost sight of them a good many times entirely, and wondered if we were to see them again. We finally rounded our buoy only to have the wind haul more by the west and dead ahead some more. We thrashed and pounded at it the whole afternoon with driving rain in our faces. Just before daylight left us there was a quick lull and down from northwest came an ugly looking squall. First driving rain, and then a vicious blast of wind. I was ready for it, and laid her to with dropped peak. It seemed likely to last so lowered sail and made a sporty single reef. Henry is a born sailor and acts like an old hand at the game. Couldn’t ask for better help. No sooner reefed than it fell calm and left us rolling scuppers to, etc. An hour or so of that, and the wind came smartly out of northwest which gave us a long and short leg up to Perth Amboy which we made with help of lead line at 9 o’clock. This was a hard day for we were at it thirteen hours and only covered 33 miles. Strong head tides all day.

November 2nd. Comes bright and clear with smart reefing breezes from N. W. and a real touch of winter in the air. A little more and we would need our mitties. Turned out 6:30 and while eating breakfast were hailed by a towboat captain to know where our anchors were. We pointed ahead, of course, and it was some time before we caught onto the fact that we were dragging straight across harbor. Felt pretty cheap and unprofessional. Bowsed our anchor and took off some dozen turns of chain. Under way about 9 under two reefs, one of which we shook out at once. Passed through drawer of R. R. bridge, and then through another and were then fairly on our way up Raritan River. The morning’s sail was beautiful, and made the more so by contrast with yesterday. Marshes browning, with haycocks scattered about and the hills across wide stretches. Clouds, sky and smoke from many chimneys all helped out. By 1 o’clock we dropped anchor off the entrance to Delaware and Raritan canal at New Brunswick. We spent the afternoon wandering round streets of New Brunswick, and buying few provisions and getting canal tickets. Curiously we had to pay more for the launch than for the Mascot. This because we use her as towboat. Night came still, clear and snappy cold. To carry out my plans in regard to showing the cities to Henry, we should have started a month earlier. I can see hurry and rush and cold ahead if we delay.

November 3rd. Comes snappy cold. A strong, raw northwest wind made mufflers comfortable. I finished knitting Henry’s muffler last night with Scotty in my lap playing with needles and yarn. Mighty busy all morning stripping davits and lashing poles to main boom besides filling gunny sacks with dry leaves for fenders in the locks. Curious smell in cabin this morning and H. was for beating the cat at once. I counselled moderation, and discovered that Mr. Coot, shot a week ago, had decided not to be parboiled any more. Don’t think H. was sorry to see his carcass floating downstream. Lucky escape for Scotty. Had chicken stew with steamed dumpling for dinner. Everything all right, but the chicken was an old fowl. I parboiled it two hours and cooked it two more, and it was not even to be cut with a sheath knife. Put it by for future use.

November 4th. Comes beautiful but so cold that there was ice in the pans on deck and frost enough for snowballs over everything. Launch engine froze up, but the mechanician soon had it going. Put it on astern with quarter lines and away we went. Couldn’t tell the beauties and delights of the day. Too many for me. Everything worked perfectly. Little launch pushed us 4 miles an hour at her ¾ speed. We hardly heard her way astern, and we just sort of glided by the banks, through beautiful farming country, past towns and villages. Our fenders were perfect and although the flotilla was the devil to turn corners with, we never had any trouble. When night came we snugged up to the left bank along which ran a railroad track. We were at supper when the first train with deafening roar rushed by. H. was watching it, and when it had passed he noticed a little object running towards us on the track. By gum! if it wasn’t Scotty soaked to the skin. She wouldn’t tell us how it happened, but we think she was playing on deck, got frightened and jumped or fell into canal and swam ashore.

November 5th. Comes not so cold, a perfect, still, misty, fall morning. We were away by 9 o’clock ready to enjoy another glorious day and we had it. Reached Trenton at noon and entered our first descending lock. We were careless here and failed to get out a stern line. When the water began to drop we were caught in the current and swept across the lock. H. was quick as scat and saved serious trouble by getting his line out and holding her. Our bowsprit caught as we dropped and we chipped a piece off the end, but no serious harm. From here on it was a busy afternoon with locks and bridges every quarter mile. Just at sunset we tied up to the wharf above the last lock which to-morrow will let us down to the Delaware River. As the tide will not serve in the river until noon, we are looking forward to a quiet morning at the dock.

November 6th. Comes beautifully fair. As tide did not serve in the Delaware River until 1 o’clock we lay in the lock during morning. When it came to locking out, the beasts tacked on another $4.00 to our charge because we were a pleasure boat or something. $6.50 for the Mascot and same for tender. Never get to Florida at that expense rate. No wind all afternoon so we tucked tender aft and away we went for a beautiful boat ride. Night caught us above a big railroad bridge just above Philadelphia. Sometimes I thought the bridge looked high enough to let me under and sometimes I didn’t. The nearer I got the scairder I was, so turned onto east bank to wait until morning. Between one cast of lead and another I went high and dry as usual. Boat bilged and we had supper at the same old angle. Then tide came and with it my courage and I poked the end of my mast up into the big black shadow of that bridge just as a freight train thundered over. Of course we went under all right and so on down to the city and wharves. Barometer falling sharply and I poked into a black dock on east shore and tied up to a barge. Watchman came and said there would be no water at low tide, but we were too tired to mind that and turned in.

November 7th. Came as expected with downpour of rain and old-fashioned southeaster. I made ready for shore in search of an eye doctor, as my right eye had been out of commission for the past week. Got laundry together in big newspaper bundle and was about to start when along comes wharf man and orders us out of our berth, as tug was coming to move barge. Nasty mess. Sheeting rain and blowing hard. Shifted up river off Camden Motor Boat Club where tide runs fiercely. Then I started ashore and by the time I reached an electric all the newspaper had melted off my laundry bundle and I was gathering up the loose and wet ends of shirts, socks and pajamas. People in the car thought I was a joke.

Got hold of a good eye man and spent the afternoon with him. Seems nothing very serious the matter, and he hopes to soon have me going again. Back to boat for supper.

November 8th. Comes in at 2 a.m. with a vicious young gale out of northwest. Things began doing at once. Motor boats at short mooring lines began darting at each other and the old Mascot at the end of 15 fathoms of chain commenced a series of circles in which she managed to hit them all. H. and I shivering in night clothes and bare feet were powerless to stop the merry-go-round and just when things began to snap and crack too plenty, I slipped my cable and ran up river under bare poles and let the motor boats fight it out. We are pretty well in hand by now and after mugging up with coffee and hardtack, were soon sound asleep again by four o’clock. Turned out to listen to some choice language from tow-boat captains for we had anchored plump in fairway. Had to shift just as we had all dolled up for shore. A mighty interesting visit to the Cramp ship yards in p.m. When I slipped cable we buoyed it with our push pole and got it again all right, but in the mixup we tore out the boom crutch deck fittings and smashed a cleat on boom. All non-essentials.

November 9th. I reported to eye doctor with two pretty good peepers and had some new glasses made and fitted. Henry worked on boat trying to reduce confusion. He came ashore later and we dined together. There is no time for anything when trying to look decent and be ashore each day. We are mighty sick of Philadelphia with its quick running tideway, dirty water and cold, piercing wind.

November 10th. Tide served at 4 o’clock and we were up and ready, but it was so dark we concluded to eat a comfortable breakfast and not take any chances. Yesterday had an unfortunate instance, for during p.m. when we were in town, our boom crutch worked loose and quietly faded away. Darned good maple crutch it was, too. We hove anchor about six and with a glorious day breaking, headed down Delaware with smart westerly breeze. My! but it was cold. Two heavy socks, mufflers and mitties all to the good. Wind hauled ahead and we had it on end until tide turned, when the breeze slacked and we dropped yank near Jersey shore and prepared for the first few hours of real loafing we have had since leaving home and that will be a month tomorrow. Scotty just dotes on sea fowl so I got Helen Keller to whisper once to a hell-diver and he was soon stewing in the pot. We really tried to keep still for a few hours, but there are so many things to do we managed it badly. The tide served about 3 p.m. and we were away with it. Light breeze ahead but such a swirling 4-knot tide that we made good headway and sometime about 8 or 9 o’clock ran into a little hole in the wall behind a breakwater where after some trouble we found water enough to float us. Wilmington, Delaware, was just over in back of a long nearby jetty.

November 11th. Came bright and fair but dead calm. We put the launch on ahead and H. towed me down river to Delaware City which we reached at 9:30 just as tide was setting ahead. The day starting in quite cold, suddenly turned southerly and so warm that thermometer went to 80 degrees in the sun. We filled water tanks at dock and then locked into canal basin where we tied up to the side of the main street of the town. Here we found a man and his wife whom we first met in the Raritan canal. They were bound to Florida in a little 26 foot open launch with canopy top. Heaven I hope will help the outfit or wreck them on some friendly shore, for the man had neither charts nor directions and didn’t even know the meaning or use of buoys. We had told him of the Rudder’s description of route and he was then waiting to receive copies. The little woman was losing courage and well she might, for in the southeaster a few days ago they had been soaked through, bedding and all, and the night of the northwest squall they had spent shivering while tied to a can buoy in Delaware River not knowing where they were or what to do. How comfortable our cosy little cabin did seem in comparison. Seeing them again reminded me of a little experience in the Raritan canal. We tried to pass a big barge going our way and when nearly by we took bottom and ran up good and plenty. The barge-man yelled out to “come off as ye come on” and left us. To budge the good ship I had to run a line ashore and heave her down with throat halliards. You bet it made my sore eye better when on passing the next bend I found the barge stuck hard and fast on a rock with no prospect of getting off this year. “Come off as ye come on” says I, and away we went. To hark back to Delaware City we put in the afternoon measuring off rigging for I don’t trust this and we’ll get new at Baltimore. Then we hauled out head and foot of mainsail and then we were both about all in for we have been working hard for a good many days and the change of weather did us both up brown. I took Scotty for a little walk but when she heard a dinner bell, she thought of the engine in the Raritan canal and bolted. Gee! how she flew. The Mascot not being near enough, she jumped into nearest open boat and crawled away up under forward deck from where I had to pull her by the tail. Night came and villainous urchins pounded with sticks on our smoke pipe.

November 12th. Comes fair and warm. Both feeling fine and my eyes all mended up. Off by nine into the country now beginning to look a little more southern. More leaves on the trees and the trunks festooned with vines. The canal with its little lakes and then again its narrow wooded cuts most beautiful. The warm sunlight flooded all and the distances were hazy blue and brown. It was a day of days. The bluebird perched on my finger and let me stroke its feathers, and Scotty curled up in my lap just the nicest, softest bunch of fur. Broiled steak and creamed potatoes for dinner. If I didn’t continually prove myself a fool I would think myself a philosopher—for I seem to come nearer to complete happiness more often than other folks. I have worked hard for it, too, in a way, and I believe that I have made such friends with bluebird that neither poverty, want or woe can drive him far away for long.

The beautiful delightful fourteen miles was mighty soon over and about 1:30 we locked out into the creek which leads to Elk River and the headwaters of old Chesapeake Bay. We ran aground promptly, but got off with help of launch and sail. Then we towed a bit and then with very light airs but fair tide, we beat down the beautiful reaches and were mighty glad to lose the sound of the launch’s puffing.

Oh! it sure was a dandy sail and when the sun set behind the highlands and the light clouds all turned a gorgeous crimson we slipped quietly into a little branch and anchored in the deep shadow of the shore and watched a flock of geese wing to the southard. This was what we came for and it was way up to expectations.

November 13th. Last night we turned in to the vibrant sound of honking geese in flight and this morning we turned out to the same tune. Not a breath of air and the bay like a mirror with shores veiled in bluish mist. Wonderful beyond anything. Put the launch astern and were soon on our way. So straight does she go when we fix launch just right that we both sat down in cabin to breakfast and let her go it alone. Ducks, ducks by the thousand, geese by the hundreds and hundreds. We chased big, long-necked Canada geese in flocks as if they were puddle ducks. I never expected to see such a sight. They all knew motor boat mightly well, however, and Helen Keller, the 22 rifle with Maxim silencer, whispered in vain, but mighty close by. It is a sporting proposition to get duck or goose meat with a 22 cal. at 150 or 200 yards with your boat going 4 knots and distance guessed at. No wind came until afternoon and we just puffed along while the crew cleaned ship after the dirty canal travel and kept busy in ordinary ship’s duties. Barometer slowly working down, also provisions. Better make Baltimore to-night although it hurts my pride not to hoist sail. Things look mighty different now from what they did with a bandage on one eye and a blue glass over the other. Age, however, must be creeping on for without glasses I can’t make out anything on a chart.

We jogged along until off entrance to Baltimore harbor where a smashing S. W. breeze struck in and we up sail and squared away for anchor. Baltimore being noted for its nasty harbor water, we ran up to South Baltimore in Curtis Bay, and as we were beating in got properly cussed by ferry boat captain for not having our lights lit. Said he would report us and some other things too. Hope he don’t for I was caught pretty lame. Scotty scared of motor today and fled behind stove where she stayed all day. Clouding up from southard and am glad to be in good harbor.

November 14th. This day was a hustle like all the previous ones. I went to town and bought provisions and new rigging, but found there was no way of ever getting them to Curtis Bay which I also found was reputed the most notoriously disreputable suburb of Baltimore. Didn’t get back to boat until 3 p.m. when H. met me all dolled up to go to his Uncle Alfred’s to supper. I started the launch, got gallied with the tiller lines and ran her bang into the wharf. No damage and soon on board where I had supper and wrote letters and then fell sound asleep so that H. returning, had to hire a launch to bring him on board.

November 15th. Comes with drifting cloud and cold, raw wind from the west where snow is reported in the mountains. Got under way at once, and beat up harbor in smashing breeze to anchorage off Maryland Motor Boat Club. A very Christian place. While I was cooking breakfast, H. went ashore for our supplies and without life preservers, fire extinguisher or whistle in launch fell right into hands of revenue officer who said he must report him. What with being caught without side lights the other night, and without launch fixings today, things are beginning to be interesting. We rove, spliced and whipped new gang of rigging this morning and she looks more shipshape. Must now go ashore for last things and there is the revenue cutter waiting at wharf. Had launch full of preservers and bric-a-brac, no trouble. On board for nice quiet evening at knitting.

November 16th. Comes sharply cold with breeze N. W. Off by 7:15 and after breakfast and clearing up put spinnaker to her in freshening breeze and away we went down Chesapeake to the tune of “forward and back with ladies change.” The breeze hauling by west made me try spinnaker as balloon jib but wind was too puffy and nearly lost my boom so had to take it in. Saw a herd of black and white cows ahead. No law on stray cows at sea so I got one with one barrel and H. took another with other barrel and their carcasses soon aboard. On past Annapolis where the Naval School buildings looked grandly beautiful. Can’t stop today but see you on our way back. Busy as bees all morning. Basket of oysters to be cleaned and now and then one opened. So good, so good. Then I opened a dozen or so and H. made a pie which is baking as I write, and the sun is going down gloriously clear, and up under the shore with leg-o-mutton sails and long raking spars the oyster sloops are racing home for the night. How short the day. Half-past four and we are getting lanterns ready. Let the wind only hold at this, and I will take her a long way from here before the sun peeks at me again. I believe it is right to drive south steadily and loaf along on the up route because it is too cold and young ice will be along soon. A year ago Baltimore was buried in snow and had a zero temperature. Not any for mine. The wind dropped with the sun and after hour of loafing along in the light of a good moon, we dropped anchor and turned in at 11 p.m.

November 17th. Comes without a cloud or a breath of wind. Turned over and snoozed it out until 7. Then up and doing. I had remains of oyster pie for my breakfast and H. stuffed griddles. A regular Chesapeake morning. The Bay a mirror and dotted with sail of all kinds. We got away with launch astern but by 10:30 a cold whiffle came down from north and it was soon eight hands around, and away to a smashing breeze with white caps dancing alongside. We are tearing at it as I write and yet it seems impossible down here in the cozy little cabin with good fire going, sunlight pouring through the open hatch and kitty, who has just eaten and then thrown up the leg of a sea fowl, asleep in my lap. All the comforts of home in 24′ 7″. Don’t it beat all? And just as I finished writing the above sizzle it came butt-ends on and then some. We were over-blown in no time so it was bring her to it and reef in a vicious chop of a sea. Put in the best reef yet and in ship-shape style. H. is all right. Papa felt so good he tied down the leach earing himself. Away again in search of palm trees for this norther was cutting cold. It blew on steadily and soon every sail on the bay but ourselves had run to cover in some little hole in the wall. We drew out into the broad mouth of the Potomac and such a hubble-bubble as there was and the breeze pricking on all the time. The launch still without cover began to lap up the water and was soon shooting from side to side. I dropped my peak to ease things but couldn’t do much. Sea tumbling every which way and more to come. In the holes we could see whiff-on-pooffs laughing. I was below eating dinner when H. yelled “she’s gone.” Sure thing. The launch had stripped the big quarter cleat off the deck and was headed to sea far astern. Thank goodness she wasn’t sunk. Then it was down board up peak and haul sheets. Oh! a fine, noble little ship she is. She looked up into that crooked water like a major. Into Henry’s bunk went my bean dinner, coffee, etc., etc. Round she came and everything else went into mine. Just before reaching the launch an old, whopping sea spilled lanterns, cans, pans, coal and me into the scuppers, and before I could get my wheel again, we all but hit the launch beam on. Just got by but couldn’t catch her. Made a sporting pickup on next try, but saw at once that she would soon roll over if not bailed out. Dropped peak, laid to and H. jumped aboard and bailed out like a sailor. Then away again and found that with a very long painter she did pretty well. Was trying to get round next point without tacking, but the sea was almost breaking and my lead giving me only 2½ fath. In a cast or two I got only 1½ fath. and the water straight up and down. The sooner the quicker and we made a fancy North river jibe and hauled off shore. Soon found easier going and tacking her smartly just inside Smith’s Point Light, we squared away for Great Wicomico River which we entered for a delightfully quiet harbor at 6 p.m. after a truly sporting day. In half an hour we sat down to roast chicken, baked potatoes and brown gravy. Henry getting so used to these little merry-go-rounds that he don’t turn a hair now while a few weeks ago they made his teeth chatter. He says he didn’t know yachting was anything like this and I tell him it “ain’t.” This is boating and to get little boats over big distances you must drive them. There was some whipping to canvas with peak dropped today and a nasty batten poked thro’ the sail and before it tore loose and went to leeward it ripped a foot or more of canvas. Also tore out lazy jack boom block, loosened poop deck irons and split one of the boards. H. thinks we better lay up and repair while there is something left to repair, but they are all non-essentials while this norther is very much an essential towards making southing, so on we go with halliards flying and no down haul. Like Jorrocks, I feel like saying “Yachting is the sport of kings, the essence of war with all the glory and only twenty-five per cent of the danger.”

November 18th. Came as bright, crisp and snappy as you please. Under way by 8:45 still clinging to our single reef, although barometer was up after a 2 point drop yesterday for that breeze. With wide sheet we slipped along the shore heading about due south. Again the sails and the fleets of oyster boats. The shore not misty blue but clear cut in the smart northerly air, and the water a deep, wholesome blue. And so on with the breeze always pricking on and driving us faster, but without the concentrated venom of the day before and our single reef just handsome canvas. Past the mouth of the Rappahannock where the seas picked up and with only 2 fath. of water, we were almost out of sight of land. Old squaw stew for dinner, and Henry had to run from the cabin. First touch of mutiny on board. He allowed he would desert at Norfolk or right then and there if I gave him any more sea fowl to eat. Foolish boy, he needs starving. Scotty and I finished the stew. Away past Mobjack Bay; the York River, and as night fell we beat up into the little hole called Back Bay and dropped anchor at 5:45 having done 48 knots in the 9 hours run or 54 land miles. With Norfolk only 18 miles away, I feel as if we had about knocked this stretch to pieces. But what a chance I had at it.

November 19th. Comes calm and as pretty as a picture. Found us anchored in a snug little harbor and surrounded by busy oystermen. Fried oysters for breakfast, and we took our time, so that it was 11 o’clock before we tripped our hook and started for Norfolk only 18 miles away. There’s where we just missed it for the wind hauled E. S. E. and gave it to us right in the eye with a mean, short, little hubble-bubble that old Mascot found it particularly hard to negotiate. A miserable little sloop-rigged dugout manned by three niggers gave me the beating of my life. She was about 30 ft. long and slid through that chop as if greased. I still held to my reef and with launch in tow made slow but mighty comfortable going. Worked the shore down to Old Point Comfort but taking a strong ebb tide there we had to get whole sail on her and seriously work our passage up Hampton Roads where “Lay the Cumberland Sloop of war.” The wind failed as the sun went down and night found us seeking some little quiet corner in the big, busy harbor of Norfolk which was crowded with barges and schooners waiting cargoes. I counted seven five-masters and one six-master. Henry towed awhile, but we got aground and then a little night air springing up we slowly worked her up past the wharves to a quiet little berth among some other small craft. We are 35 days from Potomska and count up just 21 sailing days. We must stop here and fix up for a day or two sure.

November 20th to November 26th. At anchor Norfolk. Most of the time put in while running back and forth to our meals ashore. We did finally complete the cover to the launch and get a new quarter cleat bolted down. We were a trifle fine in spots, and I made H. spend a day by himself which did him good. We passed a day inspecting terminus of Virginia R. R. and one afternoon we actually loafed an hour or two on board. We met two young fellows who were bound to New Orleans in a 26 ft. launch and writing up a story of their trip for publication in the Motor World. Their boat was the most complete mess I ever saw. Their photo outfit took up most all available space, and what was left held a typewriter in a big box. Four gallons of water in two little stone jugs was all the wet goods carried. When they arrived they brought the remains of a canopy top which had blown off one day in the Bay. They seemed happy enough, however, and spent an evening on board and took a picture of “Scotty.” The Mascot with all the room pleased them much.

November 26th. I turned out at 5, but that crew of mine has no ambition, and it took half an hour to get him out of his blankets. The morning was bitter cold and it was mufflers and mitties once more. We breakfasted and after filling water tanks at wharf we tucked the launch under stern and were away up the south branch of Elizabeth River. Past the docks, ferry boats, tugs, barges and stuff. Then the big navy yard and through railroad bridges and at last the river and the pines. How good it all looked. We were mighty tired of that old harbor with its shrieking whistles and uneasy waters. The river wound and twisted along until it fetched us up near noon at the entrance and first and only lock of the Chesapeake and Albemarle Canal. Here we were mulct $7.50 for getting dropped about 2 ft., but somehow that little drop seemed to separate us entirely from the north and launch us into Dixie waters. The sun was out bright and warm. The air a misty blue from smoke drifting over from big fires in Dismal Swamp. The canal stretched straight away a bright blue line framed in the greens and browns of the bank. Oh! it was all so beautiful, so calmly peaceful and still. We tied to a grape vine and muzzled all four feet right into a great oyster stew and then away on our long road of color. The swamp lonesome, dreary, fascinating, stretched on either side as far as we could see. Dore might have come here to sketch some of his great, gaunt, tree trunks. What can people be made of to talk of these canals as tiresome bits of the southern journey, to be endured and gotten over as quickly as possible. This half day paid for the effort gone before. And as the day wore on it grew always wilder, more beautiful. The dark green of holly, the blue green of the great, long leaved pine, and the browns and yellows of leaf and grasses growing full to the water’s edge. It was a sacrilege to break such stillness with a motor, but we committed it. Three big, bald headed eagles and a few hawks were the only live things we saw. The afternoon wore on. All the wind died and the shadows crept across the stream, while the sun, a big red fire ball dropped behind the pines and it was night quick, quick. The little chain rattled and we were soon swinging quietly at anchor. I had to give Scotty a talking to. No sooner was anchor down than she wanted to go ashore and see the wild cats, but I took her on my knee and said “Non, mon pauvre petit mimi, tu ne peut pas aller chez les chats sauvages. Sois sage et reste tranquille avec nous.” This calmed her at once. I was a bit scared because she had a fit yesterday and honestly I never saw a little cabin so full of one cat before. If she has another, we leave the ship even here in Dismal Swamp. So with cheese fondue and lots of toast for supper, thus ends a mighty fine day and we turned in to the sound of the hoot of an old owl. We turned out again mighty quick, however, to the hail of “What in hell is that?”, to find a river steamer close aboard. No sooner was he safely past than down stream came a tug and the whoppingest, biggest barge. As they swung round the bend the barge just missed us, and the captain from seemingly the top of a mountain shouted “Youse all better move away or some of us all will be running over youse.” We moved all right and promptly.