Logbook Tales – Baby on Board

• By Michael Smart
• June 29, 2015
• 6 Comments

For Julia, remembering your first week at sea

You were new to the world, a mere three and a half months old, arriving on a balmy summer evening on June 28th, 8:27 PM, all 6 pounds 15 ounces of you. Your mother and I had returned to Connecticut for your birth, the three of us now heading home to Bequia, via Antigua where we’d moored our 45 foot staysail cutter Tropical Dream with a caretaker.

The plan was to island hop from Antigua to Bequia, sailing by day and anchoring at night in Guadalupe, Dominica, Martinique, St. Lucia, and finally home to Bequia. A pre-dawn departure from English Harbor would put us into Isles Des Saints, Guadalupe by mid-afternoon, providing sufficient time to make any necessary adjustments or repairs to the cutter after the long layup. The rigging and all systems had checked out as ready in the days prior to departure. But under sail was a different matter, and the crisis struck soon after we cleared English Harbor.

Saturday September 15th, 0430 hrs.
Fair sky and bright moon. Wind southeast at 10 to 12 knots. Tropical Dream plowed a heaving, rolling path through the confused cross currents roiling the entrance to English Harbor. White topped swells buffeted the ship from every direction. Clear of the entrance, the swells still heavy and close packed, the deck like riding a bucking bronco, the main halyard jammed somewhere aloft, above the second spreader, putting the mainsail out of commission. The halyard also fouled the topping lift, which snapped under the cutter’s heavy heaving.

My thoughts focused on securing the rigging, steadying the cutter’s motion without the mainsail, and a decision whether to continue or return to English Harbor. Mom’s thoughts on infant you below, strapped into a carrier seat I’d rigged to the ceiling above the salon settee, visible through the hatch from the cockpit. Your mom’s glances alternated between me and the salon, the glances in my direction conveying worry and concern, but aware, at the moment you needed her on deck, guiding the cutter through the sloppy sea.

We’d recruited a young couple, on vacation, seeking a sailing adventure. English Harbor a favorable port for finding hands willing to crew in exchange for passage. Simon and Peta had never sailed before, but we’d established a congenial rapport while getting acquainted, and you quickly took to them. Simon would assist on deck in whatever manner his non-existent seamanship allowed. Peta’s sole job, attending to you while your mom and I sailed the cutter.

The dark night, despite the moonlight, and pitching deck, prohibited any attempt at climbing the mast and freeing the halyard. Simon and Peta seasick from the cutter’s motion. Your mom’s worried frown deepened whenever Peta left your side to puke in the head.

I hoisted and set the number 3 genoa and staysail, which accompanied by the diesel, produced an easier motion and better steering. I also altered course for Deshayes on Guadalupe, closer than Isles Des Saints. We’d arrive by daybreak, and I’d be able to sort out and repair the rigging.

While pandemonium reigned on deck, while the cutter rolled and heaved, while your mom resolutely stood her post at the helm despite an overwhelming urge to rush to your side, throughout it all you fared best of anyone on board, laughing and shrieking in gleeful delight as your gimballed carry seat swung you to and fro in the cabin. The motion a new pleasurable experience in a life just getting under way.

Sunday September 16th, 1030 hrs.
Departed Deshayes with all repairs completed. Light southeast breeze, glassy sea. Anchored Isles Des Saints 1730 hrs.

Monday September 17th, 0830 hrs.
Departed Isles Des Saints for Dominica under overcast sky. Breeze 15 to 20 knots in the passage with moderate chop and squalls to the east. Anchored Roseau, Dominica at 1530 hrs.

Tuesday September 18th, 0630 hrs.
Departed Roseau under a clear sky, the day sunny bright with a southeast breeze at 12 to 15 knots. The best sailing day so far, Tropical Dream’s shake down complete and the cutter performing flawlessly. The crew also faring well, Simon and Peta acquiring their sea legs and performing more sailing duties on deck. And you, my Julia, a bundle of mirthful delight, taking to life aboard, and the sea, as though born to it. Arrived Fort de France, Martinique 1610 hrs. You are a star in every port, nicknamed “Calamity Jane” by the Fort de France immigration and customs inspector, who pays scant attention to our ship’s papers and passports while cooing and entertaining a delightfully giggling you.

Wednesday September 19th, 0930 hrs.
Departed Fort de France for St. Lucia under a partly cloudy sky. Light southeast breeze, and light chop in the passage. Wind veering south with squalls to the east. The squalls pushed us 10 miles west of our course, but I decided to remain on port tack, expecting a lift as the squalls departed and the wind veered east. The lift arrives and we’re able to beat toward St. Lucia, the sails sheeted hard, the cutter racing ahead. Rode the lift all the way into Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. Dropped anchor 1600 hrs.

Saturday, September 22nd.
My charter business, and your mom’s work with disabled kids, kept us in St. Lucia for two days. Plus all our friends wanting to greet the new arrival, you. Simon and Peta, running short of money, flew out for Antigua and the trip home following long hugs and sad farewells. They were wonderful company and crew, and a joy with you. We’ll miss them. A Vincentian captain who’d completed a charter to St. Lucia needed a ride home. He joined us for the final leg of our trip, and he too, couldn’t stop playing with you.

Sunday, September 23rd 0700 hrs.
Departed Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. A bright, sunny day, light wind 5 to 10 knots. The sea flat calm in the passage between St. Lucia and St. Vincent. 3 and ½ hours to the Vincentian coast. Another 2 hours to Bottle and Glass point off Barrouallie. Entered the Bequia channel at 1730 hrs, and finally, a stiff east breeze for the run to Bequia. Dropped anchor in Port Elizabeth at 1900 hrs. We’re home, with our lovely Julia, who almost the entire population is dying to meet.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

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More Logbook Tales – true stories from the author’s flying and sailing logbooks.

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