May 10th. Norfolk. Henry came back this morning. Just as I thought and hoped it would be, there is nothing to it now but woods, mountains and narrow valleys with cutting and slashing in the woods, big black holes in the mountains and roar of cars and machinery in the valleys. It is high time my anchor was up, my last jib bent and I homeward bound. Away to nice northerly breeze right after lunch. Tack for tack down river with plenty of chance to look over the shipping at anchor. Four big six-masters in port. Fine, noble looking vessels. Took last look at Norfolk Harbor and made out into the choppy water of Hampton Roads. Norfolk Harbor is the best we have seen yet and no sailor need worry about entering it at night for right at the head of it and high in the air there is an enormous electric sign blazing like a southern cross. The sign reads
“Annheuser Busch
Budweiser”
and is a better mariner’s guide than any submarine bell. After nice, pretty afternoon sail we dropped hook in the bight back of Old Point Comfort.
May 12th. Comes clear and cold with Irishman’s hurricane. Beat the sun and kicked up my own son. Caught last of ebb out of Roads and was away up the beach with putt-putt. Fish traps everywhere and running miles and miles to sea. All rigged to leave a passage at end of each pound, so it was not hard to pick our way along shore. Broken trap poles, twenty to thirty feet long, water soaked and only just afloat, made things a bit interesting, but we got by and taking a fair tide and nice air at northeast we bowled her along smartly and put her to bed back of Cherry Pt. near Stingray Light at 5 o’clock, forty-five miles nearer home.
Everybody catching crabs on long trawls. Millions a day it must be. Had soft shells on toast for supper. Terribly good eating and never had anything to crumb itself so handily. Dip ’em in egg and then they do their own wriggling about in the crumbs. Fresh from the water they are mighty sweet and so juicy they explode in the pan, which endangers the life of the cook.
May 13th. Comes fair with wind hauled fresh southwest and every promise of a smashing good run. Up and off early. No strength or driving power to the wind, which coming off the land was hot and without zip. It soon petered out and we had to get kicker to work. This constant motor business gets mighty tiresome but it is mighty necessary here-a-way. Wind hauled by north and way around into east where it hung all day so lightly as to just keep sheets broad off and tripping on water. The sun poured down mighty hot and a swarm of flies invaded us, which even the screens failed to keep entirely out of the cabin. We crossed mouth of Potomac River under very different conditions from those last winter when the launch pulled adrift in the cold, driving norther. Had a strong head tide all day and couldn’t reason it out. I despaired after counting nine hours of its running. Weather didn’t look too good in afternoon and I was glad to slip into St. Jerome Inlet about four o’clock where we promptly went aground, and from the fish wharf as promptly came the drawling cry, “Come off as ye come on,” which we did in workmanlike shape, our Floridian experience counting for much in this line. Anchor down and we were at once boarded by visitors. From 5 o’clock until 9:30 there was no time when there weren’t from two to seven men perched like pelicans on cockpit railing. H. did good work and kept things going until we had our supper when I entered the game and lied steadily until they all left. H. complimented me on several brand new ones, but I feel he may as well pick up a few points for he may have to sell insurance himself some day.
May 14th. The night a bit stuffy with air filled with smoke. My chin-chin last night sort of started things going a bit and I passed an old-time restless night and had breakfast cooked and served by five o’clock this morning while H. was snoozing it out. The little inlet is most attractive and was at its best this morning with blue smoky air and fresh spring green. Yesterday we learnt something about the tides which in spring of the year on account of freshets inland and strong breezes often turn and run ebb for days at a time. We have also learnt something about the hardy fisherman of Chesapeake Bay and his wonderful seaworthy buckeye. Tell your folks “tain’t so.” On any light, fair day the bay is dotted with sail, but let the breeze prick on and in no time at all there is not a sail in sight. Every mother’s son of them scoots into his near-by harbor. Beyond a mile or two each way they have no knowledge of the shore, and are completely ignorant of where they are as compared to anywhere else. A sixteen year old boy on board yesterday asked us if we drew our own charts, and the captain of a fisherman had never heard of Hatteras and didn’t know how far it was to Norfolk or to Baltimore, and had never been to either. When duck shooting in the winter they still use carronades, but have a line and buoy hitched to them. The game warden always signals when he is coming and then they throw the carronade overboard so he won’t have to find it. If the warden failed to signal and did catch anyone, why they would just naturally have to shoot him up, so wardens become quite careful in the matter. When it comes to game and their rights to it, the West Virginian mountaineer and his whisky still has nothing over these beachcombers.
May 15th. Turned out 4:30 and away with kicker at 6. Coldish this morning, cloudy and light chilly air at north dead ahead. This western shore of Chesapeake is very beautiful indeed along here. High bluffs of reddish clay rimmed with a white sand beach and topped by heavy growth of pine and poplar. Little gullies between sharp hills to the water’s edge and in them the morning mists lie blue. Ideal camp conditions for an October cruise in a little sharpie. Would send her to Baltimore on steamer. Must try that some day when I grow a bit younger. Would want something light to pull on the beach and use my tent for shelter. Breeze freshened sharply to a wholesail outfit and sea made up at once. Nothing doing for Mascot who just jumped up and down. Would have lost patience with any other boat, but bless your heart, this boat is too good. An hour and wind was all gone, leaving a miserable hubble-bubble of a sea into which we plunged to the knightheads. After two hours things straightened out and we got kicker to work and finally, wind hauling fresh from south, we ran to good anchorage in Annapolis by 4 p.m.
May 16th and 17th. Annapolis in heavy northeast rain and blow.
May 18th. Were late turning out. Glass falling, wind dropping, rain stopping. Blow over, so up yank and off in dead calm about ten o’clock. Didn’t calculate to more than jog along a few miles, but breeze hauled out about south, sea smooth and beautifully blue under bright, clearing sky. Tide turned fair. The Maryland shore all beautifully green after the needed rain and first thing you know we had a bone in our teeth and were bruising water in great shape. It was as beautiful an afternoon’s sail as we have had the whole trip and at evening we anchored her in a little cove 55 miles from Annapolis and with the old Chesapeake behind us. No one who has not done it, can possibly appreciate what it means to follow up the spring along these shores. To leave that dreary, swamp-ridden land of Florida and slowly watch the spring unfold until here, with one big burst, it is around you in all its glorious beauty.