Working the toilet is an art … as for showers?
I’m getting the swing of it.

 

Last leg, motoring toward Camden
the cabbage with the corned beef last night
has done a number on me

we’re all in the same boat
for now

sleeping with the ocean
a mere foot from my head

the ship at port / anchored creaks, lines grinding / groaning
I hear the neighbors either side
Intimately

have you read
a common topic so uncommon
elsewhere

“I’m dying to be a better reader”

like digging a hole
I like going to bed
or lying on a beach

back below, in my berth
I hear steady breathing a few feet away
only a thin wall separating our heads

her boyfriend’s in crab school

yep, they giggle
unlike the couple with Southern accents
from Florida

the knitting picked up again

I’m going to sleep
[I’m falling asleep]
and so is most of the rest

finally

how many times will I be up
in the middle of the night
the head’s up on deck

I’m glad it’s not raining
or heavily foggy

though we’re sleeping at sea
it’s calmer than a water bed

creaking and thumps
more likely my neighbors
than the interplay of planks and sea

yes, somebody’s bones

now, for that damned mosquito
or some scratching overhead

who just dropped what
on the deck above me?

a shutting door
with a latch
and shuffling

who’s securing the gear
in the dusk?

what a still, calm spot she’s chosen
for the night

3:30 am, a nearly full moon
scattering sound of steady traffic
the other side of Isle au Haut
(the south)
may simply be the water motion

there’s definitely surf other side,
slight breeze, 1 mph?
to the west

can barely see Polaris
light cloud cover

only one plane overhead
on the European flight way

and the flash of a fishing boat
light array
in the gap of Deer Isle

what’s all the noise around me tonight
besides a stray cough
or zipper

are we really that restless

I have no idea what the Patriots
or Sox
did over the weekend
though they’ve been spiraling downward

light snoring in my ear last night

I had the most erotic dream
of someone who in reality was almost well

This could become obsessive.

The evolution of the surviving coasting schooners from freight to a summer vacation platform where people could get a taste of what had previously been available only aboard the yachts of the rich is largely credited to Captain Frank Swift and his efforts from 1936 to create what he saw as a kind of dude ranch escape on the waters of Penobscot Bay.

In time, other owners joined in.

Notably, in 1973 Captain John Foss purchased the Louis R. French and removed her from the freight trade. He spent three years restoring the vessel to her original sailing condition and outfitting her hold for passengers. Oh, my, did he!

In 1986, he sold the schooner to his brother-in-law, who sailed and captained the French out of Rockland and then Camden until she was purchased from by Captain Garth Wells in 2003, who in turn sold to Captain Becky Wright and Nathan Sigouin. Maybe “passed her on” would be a more apt description.

Meanwhile, the already legendary Foss turned his attention to renovating the American Eagle, which he purchased in 1984. It’s now one of the few schooners that undertake longer voyages to places like Grand Manan Island near me or down to Gloucester on Cape Ann, Massachusetts, in addition to venturing offshore looking for whales.

At first, those names meant little to me. Now, however, I understand why they’re often uttered in reverential tones.

first, flapping fabric as wind kicks in
then a surge at my seat and flooring
like riding a stallion
muscular under the saddle

The 1990 application to include the restored and repurposed Louis R. French in the National Register of Historic Places includes much more than a detailed physical description of the schooner and her history.

The National Park Service document, Louis R. French (Schooner), available online  portrays the two-masted coasting schooner as the most common American vessel type, with tens of thousands of them functioning as the “freight trucks” of their time, carrying coal, bricks, iron ore, grain, oysters, lumber, and even ice between ports.

Yet, at the time of the application, only five of them were surviving in the United States.

In addition, the French was the oldest surviving sailing vessel built in Maine, the center for wooden shipbuilding in the United States after the Civil War.

As the application noted, until the outbreak of World War II, the coasting schooners were so common that nobody paid much attention to them. Designed to run fairly close to shore, the coaster lacked the fishing schooner’s ability to ride out a gale offshore on the fishing grounds. Nor did the coaster approach the scale of the great four-, five-, or six-masted coal schooners that transported coal from southern to northern ports.

Deepwater sailors, who occasionally took a large schooner across the Atlantic, scorned the useful and ubiquitous little coasters, sometimes accusing their skippers of “setting their course by the bark of a dog.”

The application quoted maritime historian Howard I. Chapelle, who observed “the straight fore-and-aft-rigged schooner is decidedly a coastwise vessel, and attempts to use such craft for long voyages have invariably been disappointing and disillusioning, if not disastrous to the adventurers.”

The schooner supplanted the square-riggers in the coasting trade for practical reasons:

Fewer sailors were required to handle the vessel, and a schooner could be worked into and out of harbors and rivers more easily than any square-rigged craft. Her trips could also, as a rule, be made in quicker time, as she could sail closer into the wind, and it was hardly necessary for her to sail from Maine to New York by way of the Bermudas, as some square-rigged vessels have done during baffling winds.

Put another way, they were the errand boys, the short-haul freight droghers, and the passenger buses for many a year, and their contribution to coastal community life, especially in New England, was substantial.

“Without them, the country could hardly have been settled,” as the report quotes one source.

These days, there’s nothing Plain Jane about them, though. Not in my boat – err, book.