The day continued to burn bright. The humidity rose and with the lack of wind it felt like I was sitting in a sauna. We put into the harbor town of St. Michaels, MD, which was very quaint. I would have enjoyed it had I not felt like a lobster that had just been lowered into the pot for boiling. We shopped for a couple of things to eat and bought some ice. We returned to the boat once again and set out for the open seas, the putt-putt of our little engine being the only sound heard.
I had reached new heights (lows?) in boredom. The boat was crawling along so slowly that the scenery seemed to never change. The sun seemed to hang in the sky, never making its way towards the horizon. There were no big waves, just little swells that gently rocked the boat. The vessel was so small that there was virtually no room to move about onboard. The cabin was stifling hot. The only thing that had happened was getting stung by the jellyfish. Things are pretty bad when getting stung was the highlight of the trip.
We found another secluded little cove to drop anchor and spend the night. The heat was oppressive in the cabin. I tossed and turned all night, fighting to get some sleep, but it was just too hot and uncomfortable. By daybreak I was ready to dive off the deck and swim for shore. This was to be our last day on the water and I was ready to take a shower and spend a day sleeping in a darkened room with the air conditioning turned up.
During the night clouds had moved in, and the sky was overcast. There was actually a hint of a breeze and the humidity had lessened perceptibly. We ran the sail up and, while it didn’t actually fill with wind, it flapped a few times. We shut the motor off and tried to turn to see if we could get moving.
The breeze kept shifting directions, it seemed. It would first blow from one direction and then seem to come from another. It also wasn’t really strong enough to fill the sails and push the boat. The little pieces of fabric (or something) stuck to the sail (I later found out these are called telltales) were barely moving, indicating a pretty feeble breeze.
We were moving, if you want to call it that. The motion was barely perceptible, and it wasn’t enough wind to call it sailing, but it was the most excitement I’d seen in three days. After some time the breeze increased. It was enough to sort of fill the sails and I actually took a turn at the tiller and steered the little vessel under my friend’s watchful eye. I was sailing! We weren’t going very fast, but it was refreshing to feel and hear the wind and not that endless droning of the motor.
The wind continued to pick up. We were having a great time now, as the sails were full of wind and when we turned the sails would slacken for a minute as the boom swung and then let out a loud “WHUMP” when they filled with air again. It was exhilarating to feel the wind, the spray in your face and the rise and fall of the sea as we zipped along. So this was what everyone got excited about! It was fun!
The wind continued to strengthen. The waves had turned to whitecaps as the wind increased. Pretty soon it started to rain. About this time we decided to turn on our radio, which was set to a local station. We soon found out that a small craft warning had been issued as a storm was quickly moving into the area. I asked my friend what “small craft” meant. I think he said something about being less than 20 feet in length, if my memory serves me correctly. (I looked it up on the internet and it said there is no real definition for a small craft, but I’m sure our postage stamp-sized boat fit the bill.)
Just then, a particularly strong gust snapped the sail so that it made a sound like a firecracker. My friend said that we had to lower the sail, as the increasing wind could rip it from the mast. He said we should head for shore, and I seconded that motion. He asked me to go below and get the charts so that we could figure out the shortest route to safety. Just after I made my way into the cabin, the boat tilted fiercely to the left. I looked out the little round window to find I was staring into a wave that had crested over our boat. I mean I was looking into the wave, as in below the surface of the wave; below the surface of the water.
As I scrambled back on deck I remember thinking that I knew my friend had to have been swept overboard. I was surprised to see him clutching the tiller, trying to right the boat, but with a look of panic on his face. I gave him the charts. He asked me to try to lower the sail, so we wouldn’t have to fight the sea and the wind. The sea was bad enough. When we were at the bottom of the swells you couldn’t see over the tops of them. It was like we were in a small canyon of water. I untied the rope to lower the sail and it started descending the little track that was in the side of the mast. After it had lowered about two feet or so, it jammed. I jerked the rope back and forth, snapping the cord in any direction to get it to release so I could completely lower the sail.
To be continued…
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