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.