TWO ON THE CHESAPEAKE
George Barrie, Jr.
Reprinted from "The Yachtsman," London
MY brother ruined me! As far back as I can remember he
always had a boat and used to take me along with him;
short sails at first, longer ones as I grew older. He led
me on the downward path by taking me to boat shops and
shipyards, so that before long the faintest whiff of
cedar or tar would drive from me all desire to follow in
the footsteps of the busy little bee. He made models for
me with which I sailed miniature
Volunteer-Thistle races against those of a
chum. The craving for salt air and seaweed, bright days,
and sparkling waves came upon me.
My first sail alone was in a small rowboat in which I
drove before the gentle breeze under full press of an old
umbrella until I got a hundred yards to leeward and then
slowly rowed back for another run. Next, I made a sail
out of burlap for a sort of a sharpie belonging to my
brother's wife's cousin's husband, and had a terrible
scare one day when I got too far out of the mouth of the
Mystic River. Then came a fourteen-foot Barnegat sneak
box given me by my brother -- again he led me on. Now
came the taste for scraping and painting -- many blisters
I had and much paint on hands and clothing. A whole day's
trip was the greatest adventure in this craft. A
twenty-one-foot naphtha launch came a few years later,
but lasted only a short time: too monotonous and noisy;
and in two years I was back again to sail, with a Lark,
and won a first or second from a fleet of six in every
race in which I started. Three other vessels have
followed, each of which will be described later in the
accounts of cruises made in them, each successor a little
larger than the former, but I think I am now at the top
size, and if ever I change it will be down the scale.
This year, 1900, the aforesaid brother being abroad in
the pursuit of the elusive simolian, I was compelled to
get a vessel of my own and be my own boss for this year's
expedition to what Leonard Calvert called "these
delightfullest of waters."
The last day of June went out with a fierce squall,
which left a fine northwest wind, just the kind for
leaving the club early in the morning and anchoring in
the Bohemia River in time for supper, with a chance
before dark to feast the eyes on clear blue water, hills
covered with green woods and tilled fields, a chance to
breathe real air, not the foul, gaseous, dirt-laden air
of the cities; to stand on deck leaning over the boom,
with the gentle breeze fanning your cheeks, and an odor
of supper coming up from the galley, and feel almost as
care free as a South Sea papalagi tafea.
We just missed doing it this time by not being ready
on Saturday, July 1st, but on Sunday morning at five
thirty the keel bugeye Corona, A.G., owner,
twenty-eight feet over all, four feet six inches draft,
and my own little yawl Seminole, twenty-eight feet
over all, four feet six inches draft, each containing
many stores, one owner, and, much to our regret, one paid
hand, left their moorings at the anchorage of the
Corinthian Yacht Club.
There was a light west-northwest wind, so we had to
make one leg over to the head of Chester Island and then
back to the Pennsylvania shore before being able to stand
down the river, then it was close-hauled to Edgemoor, the
wind gradually freshening; anchored a little below the
New Castle range lights at about ten o'clock; went ashore
to get some milk and visit the lower light, having quite
a chat with the keeper. About two o'clock got up anchor,
and ran down to Delaware City under mizzen and jib. We
anchored just below the mouth of the canal, while the
Corona ran alongside one of the piers. By-and-bye her
owner came over and stayed on board all night, sleeping
on the floor, as he decided it was too hot, and that
there would be too many mosquitoes in alongside the
pier.
Ran into the lock next morning at four o'clock, had
breakfast, made purchases, and started off at half-past
seven, Corona towing us -- I forgot to say that Corona
had a one and a half horsepower gasoline engine. Reached
St. George's before nine o'clock. Just after getting into
the deep cut we met a long line of timber rafts, so tied
up to the bank to let them pass, there being not more
than a foot between the logs and our sides. When A.G.
went to start the engine it refused. He moved various
cocks, then turned the flywheel, moved more cocks and did
more grinding, but it still refused. After waiting for
about ten minutes I went on board and did a little
grinding myself, the thermometer was about ninety-two
degrees, then A.G. used language and ground again, but
all to no purpose; so, taking a line ashore, I began to
tow. Once the boats got started it was not hard work.
When a mile had been gone over this way the engine
suddenly started to cough, and we were off once more.
Reached Chesapeake City after one o'clock, had lunch,
bought ice, and started down Back Creek under power. On
reaching the Elk River set sail, but, as there was very
little wind, had to fall back on the power; anchored in
the Bohemia about four o'clock. Had a swim, supper, and a
row up the river before turning in.
By five o'clock next morning we were up and had
breakfast preparing; in an hour we were under way. Wind,
southeast, light, set all sail, the Corona trying her
topmast-staysail, but it seemed to hold her back. Passed
Turkey Point at nine o'clock, having drifted nearly all
the way. Corona gradually dropped astern, and, much to
our surprise, did not use her engine; the reason, we
afterward found out, being that it would not run. But
this was the last time that it refused during the whole
cruise. Had to anchor in the middle of the Bay off
Howell's Point, as the wind had died out completely. Did
a little log-writing and fixed up below; about eleven
o'clock the wind came up from the southwest, the usual
afternoon breeze. On the first leg we made the north
point of Still Pond; the next leg, the south point, or
Plum Point, as it is called; and in another we made red
buoy No.2, off Worton's Point, and then stood out until
we could lay up the cove. Just as we started in it
commenced to breeze and get up a sea.
On the north shore of the cove, about a half mile
outside of Mill Creek, there is a steamboat wharf, where
I anchored, and went ashore to get chickens. After a good
deal of persuasion, succeeded in getting them to part
with two. The people had lots of them, but were too lazy
to make an effort to catch them. By the time I got on
board again Corona came in sight past the point. We then
got up anchor and beat up Worton's Creek, anchoring in
eight feet. On the way passed a pungy aground, but she
soon backed off; there is plenty of water here, a
steamboat coming in every day from Baltimore. At the
narrowest part, or just before getting to Mill Creek, the
bowsprit can almost be put over the bank before going
about. Went up to a farmhouse for ice and more chickens,
the two I had bought not being enough for both boats.
That evening rowed about half a mile up the creek before
turning in.
CORONA TOWING SEMINOLE IN THE CANAL.
A.G. EXPLORING TILGHMAN'S CREEK.
Worton's Creek is one of the snuggest anchorages
imaginable. Seven feet can be carried up the creek to
where it is completely landlocked. The wind can blow from
any direction and one does not get a breath of it. This I
can vouch for, as the night we spent there was as bad as
the Black Hole of Calcutta is said to have been; the
banks are very high, and on the top of them are high
trees. It would be a grand place to lie on a winter's
night with a hard northwester blowing. One could sit
peacefully near the cabin stove with no fear of
dragging.
Up bright and early next morning in the hope of
getting to Annapolis in the afternoon. After breakfast we
got away with light northwest breeze, set all sail to
beat out the creek. When we got into the cove the wind
shifted to west-southwest, which compelled us to head
over to Poole's Island. Quite a little "bobble" left from
the squalls of the night before.
From the middle of Poole's Island made the mouth of
Fairlee Creek, and from there passed south of the island.
Corona passed to the northward, and, the wind dying out,
she came down the narrow channel to the westward of the
island under power. Strange as it may appear, the engine
ran beautifully then and forever after. We stood over
close to Miller's Island; then, the wind shifting again
to northwest, came about and headed for Rear Light, on
the north point of the Patapsco River. Here we had a fine
piece of sailing; as the wind freshened we ran along with
the rail awash and sometimes under. From the Patapsco
were coming all sorts of craft -- steamers, bugeyes,
canoes, skiffs; in short, anything that would float, all
laden with mortals bound for Tolchester Beach, to spend
the Glorious Fourth and their money.
CORONA: ELK RIVER.
SEMINOLE.
Off Seven-Foot Knoll Light the wind lightened, and we
caught up to and passed Corona. In a good breeze she
could hold us, but in light airs we walked away from her.
Going down the western shore from above Poole's Island to
the Patapsco is not safe for a boat drawing more than six
feet, as there are some unbuoyed lumps. The regular
channel is close to the eastern shore.
The wind was almost dead before we got to Stony Point,
so we hauled our jib to windward and went below for
lunch; by the time we were finished Corona came along,
and we passed her a line to tow us into the Magothy
River. We decided to give up Annapolis, as the wind was
light, and, besides, we knew the town would be filled
with fireworks. Just west of black buoy No.1 Corona
stuck, evidently on a piece of wreck, as there was deep
water all around. She soon got off, and we proceeded up
to Deep Creek, anchoring in nine feet outside the mouth.
Just as we anchored the breeze came up, and a canoe came
along loaded with farmers. After passing us she gybed;
the fore boom was so long that it caught on the mainmast;
we expected to see her go over, but in an instant they
raised it up, thus allowing it to swing clear.
After setting awnings we collected our various water
jugs and went ashore to a spring, where A.G. washed a few
clothes; after we had filled our jugs: then rowed up the
creek to where an old canoe was being tarred by a still
older man. Just as we got back on board a miniature
squall came out of the northeast; had to pay out chain
and take in awnings. During the evening rowed up to the
head of navigation of the creek, passing an old yacht
laid up, evidently owned by some well-to-do farmer.
Walked about a mile over a sandy road to a farmhouse, as
A.G. wanted some milk for his porridge next morning.
House shut tight, old nigger in the barn milking a cow,
whose tail he had wrapped around his neck to keep her
from switching out his eyes; inquired why he milked into
a cup, and were informed that the cow always waited until
the pail was three-quarters full, then kicked it over.
The owner and family were away celebrating, and he would
not sell any milk. About ten o'clock went below to sleep;
cabin felt like an oven, so, after tossing for half an
hour, tried the cockpit, but had to double up like a
jackknife; dozed off and on in various places until
morning.
Needless to say, we were up early. Had breakfast at
four-thirty, getting under way immediately after. Still
hot; light northwest wind, which died out when we got to
the red buoy at the mouth of the Magothy. Corona came
along under power and towed us to Sandy Point, where, the
gasoline giving out, the engine expired; we tried towing
with the small boats, but we also nearly expired, so
anchored and had a swim. Water was fine and clear. Soon a
light southerly breeze came up, and we slipped quietly
down past Hackett's and Greenberry Points into Annapolis
Harbor, anchored off Heller's shipyard at noon. Had
another swim, after which we put on "store" clothes and
went ashore for letters, provisions, and ice. Visited
Heller's before supper, and A.G. arranged to have his
sails altered and I purchased ten yards of canvas to put
on the deck, being tired of seeing it open in a fresh
place every two or three hours, while more rain came
inside than ran off through the scuppers. Went on board
and commenced to tack it on, A.G. superintending. Found
we needed three yards more, so I dashed over for it, but
on getting back found supper ready.
Had a fine night's sleep. Quite cool, and, being dead
tired, slept like the proverbial log. Immediately after
breakfast we took our cameras, two apiece, and rowed
around the harbor to photograph some bugeyes. Were very
much taken with one about sixty feet over all; so much so
that if the owner had been there would have made offers.
Ordered a large awning at Heller's, then rowed over to
the town, where we bought two niggers to carry the
cameras. Photographed several of the old houses,
including one occupied by the Sisters of Notre Dame,
twelve in number and all over fifty, where, when A.G.
showing his handsome person at the door, we were allowed
to pass through the hall into the garden at the rear.
This is supposed to be the Carvel House of novel
fame.
At ten o'clock we arrived at McCusker's shop, in the
back of which is a work room, with an old sofa and easy
chair for lounging purposes. Bought a few small articles,
and chatted for about two hours, and then, by superhuman
effort, succeeded in getting A.G. up from the sofa. The
heat was terrible, and we consumed many glasses of soda
at a drug store, where our numerous appearances afforded
much amusement to the clerk; also sampled every pump, of
which there are not a few, in the town. In the afternoon
climbed several hundred steps to the top of the State
House tower, where we sat for a considerable time
enjoying the cooling breeze and the magnificent view up
and down the Bay. Visited McCusker's again, from there to
Heller's to get the awning, and then back to the town
once more to get poles for same. Supper over, we went at
the canvas again, and did not finish until long after
dark, having to work by moon and lamplight. Corona also
got her altered sails, and ordered a new suit to be ready
when we returned next week.
Light westerly breeze, a clear, cool, sparkling
morning, one of the kind you remember for years. Just as
we were about to get under way A.G. discovered he had
left one of his cameras in McCusker's, which necessitated
his going on shore and routing McCusker out of bed to get
him to open his shop; so it was eight-thirty before we
catted our anchors. Ran down the Severn with nice beam
wind; when halfway between Tolly Point and the black buoy
off it, I saw that the chart showed six feet over the
shoal, so decided to cut across. Hauled in sheets and
told the man to keep her as close as possible and yet
keep her moving, then I began to put finishing touches to
the canvas on the fore deck; had driven about six tacks
when she suddenly jumped in the air, and stopped as
though she had run against a stone wall, which was true,
as on looking over the bow I saw the bottom two feet
under water and covered with large stones, while over the
stern were two fathoms. Paid out all the sheets, and,
between the flood tide running against us and my pushing
with an oar, we slipped off. During the whole operation
the man stood looking on, seeming too surprised to
move.
Before getting to Thomas Point Light I finished the
deck and put poles in the awning (breaking one). It began
to get very flat, the wind gradually petering out, till,
when opposite the light, we had hardly steerageway. Soon
we saw the dark blue line of the southwest breeze
advancing up the Bay, then sparkling patches appeared
here and there, schooners and bugeyes to the southward
suddenly awakened, and, with the gradually increasing
breeze, got on their courses once more. Now we feel a
puff, then another, and finally we heel over, headed for
red buoy No.2, south of Thomas Point. During lunch,
before getting to the buoy, had to sit on the floor, as
the little boat was rail under and jumping over the short
waves. Ran well over to the shore above Saunders Point,
then came about and stood south; headed as close as
possible for black buoy No.1, off Curtis Point. A few
more tacks and we were off the mouth of the Rhode River;
paid out the sheets and tore into the narrow channel,
passing to the westward of the cedar bush which marks the
bar running out from the eastern point. Ran in close to a
wharf and inquired through the megaphone where a friend
lived; receiving the information, we went a half-mile
further, dropping our anchor in seven feet off his
tobacco storehouse; furled sails and set the new awning.
What a fine mass of shade! From main to mizzen and six
inches over each side, with a five-inch flap all around.
By the time this was done Corona came in; she had gone to
the eastward of the bush and had to jump over the bar. We
made good use of our lead line coming in here. There are
few things on a boat which are as much used and by which
as much knowledge may be obtained as a lead and line. It
can never be used too often.
After a swim (look out for sea nettles!), A.G. and I
went on shore, walked up to an old well, where we
stretched ourselves out on the grass in the shade of some
chestnut trees, having filled ourselves with blackberries
on the way. While lying here admiring the view across the
Bay we got to talking about the hands, and decided that
there was not a greasier, dirtier being in existence than
his, and that mine was of a disposition similar to that
of a chronic dyspeptic, finally concluding to discharge
them when we returned to the head of the Bay.
At seven o'clock we rowed around the point to the
house, where we were very kindly asked to join at supper,
but we had to regretfully decline, having unfortunately
just supped. Spent a most enjoyable evening, returning on
board about ten o'clock.
I was up shortly after five o'clock on Sunday, had
breakfast, and then got in the small boat to row about a
mile up the river on a search for an old tombstone which
I had been told marked the grave of a British officer who
was drowned in the river while rowing with his wife.
After some search, found it in a clump of bushes in the
middle of a field. The name, Major Thomas Francis, and
the date, 1685, were just discernible; made a photograph,
and started back; on the way ran into a shoal of
porpoises; expected to be heaved up in the air at any
moment, so I put on a burst of speed to get out of
them.
This was another fine morning, bright and clear,
fairly cool, and the water a deep blue; when one thinks
about mornings like these it causes an intense desire to
throw dull care to the winds with an extra strong throw
and make tracks for the land where trolleys, gas meters,
and oil works are far away. On returning to the boat had
a swim, put on shore clothes, gave my hair an extra
brush, and with A.G. started for the house to go to
church with the family. After a pleasant drive of about
ten miles we arrived at the church, having passed through
one of the prettiest pieces of farming country to be
found anywhere, tobacco here, corn there, wheat in the
sheaf waiting to be thrashed, snug little farmhouses, and
best of all, now and again a peep at blue water. Church
over, we were asked to dinner. My! how good it was to get
real fresh vegetables and ice, real ice in the glasses.
In the afternoon made some photographs and sat under the
trees; were also asked to supper, and, although we
refused at first, we did not have the strength to
withstand their kind urging. In fact, we almost followed
in the footsteps of the Frenchman and his wife, who,
while traveling through Virginia in its palmiest days,
stopped for a night at one of the numerous manor houses,
and were so hospitably entertained that they stayed
several months, but about nine o'clock we reluctantly
took our departure for the boats.
Up at daylight, and before we were finished with
breakfast one of our host's men came down with a large
piece of ice, and a horse for A.G. to inspect, after
which we got under way for St. Michael's. Had a light
northwest wind out of the Rhode River and then
close-hauled to the northward to get around the black
buoy off Curtis Point. By the time we were squared away
once more, headed for Bloody Point Light across the Bay;
the wind had become very light and there being
considerable "bobble" from squalls the night before, we
jumped around, gybing several times; once the boom
knocked off the man's hat. When about two-thirds across,
the Corona started her engine; ran alongside and we
passed her a line. Were towed for about five miles up to
black buoy No.3, where we got a northwest breeze, which
gave us a nice piece of sailing up to St. Michael's,
first running with the wind on the starboard quarter to
red buoy No.6, then close-hauled on the starboard tack to
black buoy No.7, then free to buoy No.8, from there to
No.10 had it on the starboard quarter, and so on up to
the harbor, anchoring at noon off the oyster houses in
about the same spot where we anchored in the Mona
two years before.
Went on shore for ice and provisions. While at the
shipyard I made a photograph of a bugeye at anchor; while
doing so two beautiful young ladies, who had been
hovering around in a small rowboat, got almost in line.
As I turned away one of the workmen remarked with a
smile, "Did you get them ?" "I was taking the boat," I
replied. He seemed quite surprised, having been used only
to the ways of summer boarders.
By three o'clock the wind had increased considerably,
but, being sheltered by the land, we did not notice it
until outside, bound for the Wye River. Corona was under
full sail and we under mainsail and jib; once past Deep
Water Point we got it after a ten-mile sweep up the river
against the ebb tide, and I have never before seen such
steep seas. Being over canvassed, we took them green over
the bows, and they ran six inches deep along the weather
side of the cabin house; the fore hatch leaked, the chain
pipe also, and the lee deck, which was under water,
leaked like a sieve in spite of the canvas, which had not
been painted; with all of this the water was soon over
the floor. The man was scared: I believe he expected that
she would capsize, or else that the planks would drop
off, for he turned to me with a scared look and said,
"She's straining bad." The Corona took in foresail on
passing Deep Water Point, and we could see her jumping up
and down at a great rate. On entering the Wye we were in
comparatively smooth water.
Reaching the upper end of Bruff's Island it was
necessary to gybe in order to run into Shaw's Bay, but,
as it was blowing so hard, came about instead; just as we
were around a harder puff than usual came along, tearing
the jib sheet out of the man's hands, and the sail
slatted at a great rate. Between it and the pressure of
the mainsail I expected to see the mast go, and thought
surely it had gone when I heard two loud cracks, which we
afterward found out were caused by the gooseneck band
twisting around the mast. Anchored in three fathoms of
water close to the eastern shore of Bruff's Island, a
little to the north of the gut between it and the land.
Below was a fearful mess, water had come in until it was
over the floor, on top of the water was a layer of oil,
as the stoves had upset; pots, glasses, matches, dishes,
and odds and ends floated or sank in this mixture,
cushions and blankets were soaked. A pair of the man's
unmentionables, which had been placed under his cushion,
came out a beautiful thunder squall blue. Pumped out and
spread things out to dry. Soon the Corona came in under
mainsail and jib. The crew were soaked, but below
everything was dry, while we were dry but soaked
below.
After supper A.G. and I rowed ashore and stood on the
bridge that connects Bruff's Island to the mainland,
watching the puffs driving across the river; saw some
canoes beat down under all sail and then run for St.
Michael's; they threw a good deal of spray, but otherwise
did wonderfully well. After walking up a lane and getting
some blackberries we went on board and turned in.
SEINE FISHERMEN IN SHACKLE'S CREEK
NEAR BELLEVUE: ON THE TRED AVON.
Next morning we started up the Wye on the Corona,
under power, leaving the men on the Seminole. The Wye is
one of the prettiest rivers emptying into the Chesapeake;
woods, pastures, tilled fields, and colonial houses, line
its banks, while numerous little creeks open out
everywhere, each one well worth exploring.
Ran close up to Wye Landing, anchored and went ashore
with the cameras. The granary on the wharf was being
filled with wheat from a farm on the hill to which we
rode in an empty wagon. Made some photographs, and then
tried to get someone to drive us to Wye Mills, but all
were too busy, so we returned on board, got up anchor and
ran up through the Narrows to the drawbridge, which was
in the same condition as it was two years before -- not
working -- so we had to return the way we came, instead
of circumnavigating Wye Island, as we had intended. When
we got back it was lunch time, after which we started for
St. Michael's, the wind having died down to a fitful
breeze, first shifting to southwest, and then varying
back and forth from east to west. On rounding the island,
the Corona started her engine and in an hour we saw her
disappear into St. Michael's Harbor, while we were only
at Herring Island. After the wind had played with us for
about two hours we managed to drop anchor close to Corona
and in no humor for more sailing that day. There seems to
me to be no more annoying condition in sailing than a
baffling wind. When A.G. came alongside and proposed
running back to Tilghman's Creek for the night I
positively refused, but after considerable coaxing and
noting that there was now a nice breeze from the
southeast, agreed. By doing so it would shorten the next
day's run to Annapolis and perhaps allow us to get in
before it commenced to blow so hard as to make it
uncomfortable to be in the Bay in small boats. Afterward
I was glad we had done so, as we ran into a snug little
harbor.
A fair wind carried us there in about an hour; as we
did not know the channel, I went ahead in the small boat
with the lead line; just as I found it the Corona came
along under power, threw a line to my man, then followed
after me until we reached the bushes which mark the
narrow entrance; ran inside a short distance and
anchored. While supper was preparing we rowed along the
shore, making photographs here and there. In the evening
we rowed up the creek about a mile, where we landed and
inquired the way to Claiborne on Eastern Bay, to which we
came after a mile walk; posted letters, bought eggs, then
walked back to the boat and slowly drifted down the creek
in the moonlight.
How pleasant and peaceful to anchor in one of these
out-of-the-way creeks where the air is laden with the
odor of pines and wild grape. Listen to that faint
ringing of cowbells coming from that little marsh.
Cowbells? No! Thousands of small turtles at "even song."
A sunset of marvelous coloring over the wooded hills.
Hear the whippoorwills on starboard, then on port, now
very faint from the other side of the river. Now a boat
load of tired, lighthearted niggers row slowly past,
returning from their day's berry picking, some singing,
others talking in a low tone, now and again a loud peal
of laughter. Happy-go-lucky outfit! There is a side of
bacon at home and crabs or fish for the catching.
Over yonder is a bugeye slowly drifting down the river
with her load of berries and truck for the Baltimore
market. Soon the moon rises and the soft night breeze
rustles the foliage on the neighboring bank, but the
daylight starts and the unused-to abundance of fresh air
makes one soon crawl below to the hard bunk which feels
like eiderdown to one's tired out frame.
Up before daylight and got under way by light of the
moon. Fresh breeze from the south. Ran out of the creek
under mainsail and jib just as a gray streak of dawn
appeared in the east. Took a long while to find red buoy
No.4 off Tilghman's Point, but finally spied it just as
we were certain it had been moved from its position.
Jumped around quite lively, the which caused much strong
language from the man who was below cooking breakfast. As
we neared the buoy I went below, squatted on the floor,
gobbled down a couple of eggs and scalded my mouth with
some hot coffee. After rounding the red buoy, hauled in
the sheets for a beat down Eastern Bay. The Corona was a
short distance behind, we having passed her halfway from
the creek to the point. On the wind we drew away from her
rapidly, but when off Claiborne it commenced to breeze,
which made a short, steep sea into which we dived, taking
green water over the bows, a good deal of which found its
way down the fore hatch and chain pipe; came about off
the Kent Island shore, opposite Wade's Point, set mizzen
and took in mainsail into which we put two reefs during
the leg across to Wade's Point, where we came about and
set the reefed mainsail. During the operation the Corona
passed us in great style, carrying all sail. In about two
more tacks we passed the black buoy off Kent Point, but,
before getting to it, got in a bad tide rip which gave us
a tossing. From the buoy to Bloody Point Bar Light had
the wind on the quarter, but gradually lightening; off
the light Corona set spinnaker, we shook out reefs and
headed for Thomas Point Light.
Lots of schooners in the Bay bound up and down, it
being a nice whole-sail breeze for them. Shortly before
getting to Thomas Point the breeze and sea increased,
which caused the dinghy to try and board us, or harpoon
itself on the bumpkin. Gybed around Tolly Point buoy to
run into Annapolis, where we anchored off Heller's Yard
at twelve-thirty. The Corona got in about fifteen minutes
ahead of us and anchored on the Annapolis side, but
afterward moved close to us. Went ashore for provisions
and to see McCusker.
About five o'clock the Zeeland, a C.Y.C. boat,
came in with peak dropped, as by this time there was a
good stiff breeze. The oyster police boats were in harbor
for repairs; which, together with schooners running in
for shelter all afternoon, gave the place quite a lively
appearance. One feature was a seventy-foot bugeye sailed
in by one man, who had beat her down the Bay. He handled
her splendidly until he got inside, where he became
entangled with a schooner, not getting free before he
carried away her main topmast. About four o'clock had to
take in awning and get out large anchor and cable, but
did not have to use them, as at sundown the wind
lightened.
Next morning we went on shore to look at the Academy,
and on our way back stopped at McCusker's, where we
stayed nearly all morning. Used up the afternoon by
rowing up Spa Creek to photograph an old place called
"Acton," and one or two others. Turned in early, as we
had arranged to start up the Bay next day.
Weighed anchor at four-thirty, slipped out before a
gentle northwest wind; passed several canoes beating in,
one of which contained two men and a calf. Made an easy
run to Sandy Point, there had to haul in sheets and head
up as close as possible in order to stand up the western
shore. Wind headed us more, so had to take a short tack
off the Magothy; gradually it lightened and became
baffling. Died out completely a little below Bodkin
Point, where we boxed the compass until the Corona came
along to take us in tow. When off the point we could see
a dark line of breeze coming down the Patapsco, which
turned out to be a brisk northwester. Had a fine run
across the mouth of the Patapsco, past Miller's Island,
Poole's Island, and then over to Worton's Cove.
Seminole touched bottom on the south side opposite the
steamboat wharf, but on gybing slipped off. Just inside
of the mouth of the creek anchored in eleven feet, had a
swim, made some photographs, and rowed up Mill Creek,
where we discovered an old slave burying ground. On
returning had supper in the cockpit, but were interrupted
in the middle of it by a steamer coming in, the swell of
which caused everything to fall off the table; one cup
must have become suddenly possessed of a pair of legs,
for it made a clean jump off the table, over the cockpit
rail and almost overboard, while roars of laughter came
from the Coronas, a who were further away, and who
besides could not boast of the luxury of a real table. In
the evening visited a farmhouse up the creek, the owner
of which insisted on giving us a basket of apples. Very
pleasant rowing home in the moonlight.
During the night the wind came out quite fresh from
the west, so we put in a reef for the beat out of the
cove, but were able to carry full sail once we laid our
course for Howell's Point; from there we ran to Betterton
to leave the men, whose homes were in this locality.
Anchored there about ten o'clock and were off again at
eleven with good northwest breeze, which died down off
Grove Point. A.G. then started his engine and towed me up
to Turkey Point, where we anchored and had lunch. Before
we were finished a breeze came up from the southwest,
enabling us to make a nice run up to the anchorage at
Back Creek. Had a swim, supper, and went to bed.
Sunday morning we put everything on deck so as to
scrub below decks, in order to get rid of the grease left
by the men. In the afternoon slept and read until about
four o'clock, when A.G. went ashore to get chickens for
our suppers.
Up at four o'clock next morning and towed up to the
canal, where we got four mules to tow us through to
Delaware City; arrived there at twelve-thirty; had lunch
and then caught the last of the flood, which, with the
strong westerly wind, rushed us up past New Castle and
Wilmington. Off Cherry Island Flats it died out, and we
drifted up to Marcus Hook, where it came out fresh from
the south. At the head of Chester Island the tide turned
and the breeze lightened, but we managed to anchor off
the club in time for dinner. The Chesapeake cruise is
over for another year, and both of us are eagerly looking
forward to the time when those blissful days will once
more be at hand.
..
© 2000 Craig
O'Donnell, editor &
general factotum.
May not be reproduced without my permission. Go scan
your own damn article.