Part 2

_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.