November 9th. I reported to eye doctor with two pretty good peepers and had some new glasses made and fitted. Henry worked on boat trying to reduce confusion. He came ashore later and we dined together. There is no time for anything when trying to look decent and be ashore each day. We are mighty sick of Philadelphia with its quick running tideway, dirty water and cold, piercing wind.
November 10th. Tide served at 4 o’clock and we were up and ready, but it was so dark we concluded to eat a comfortable breakfast and not take any chances. Yesterday had an unfortunate instance, for during p.m. when we were in town, our boom crutch worked loose and quietly faded away. Darned good maple crutch it was, too. We hove anchor about six and with a glorious day breaking, headed down Delaware with smart westerly breeze. My! but it was cold. Two heavy socks, mufflers and mitties all to the good. Wind hauled ahead and we had it on end until tide turned, when the breeze slacked and we dropped yank near Jersey shore and prepared for the first few hours of real loafing we have had since leaving home and that will be a month tomorrow. Scotty just dotes on sea fowl so I got Helen Keller to whisper once to a hell-diver and he was soon stewing in the pot. We really tried to keep still for a few hours, but there are so many things to do we managed it badly. The tide served about 3 p.m. and we were away with it. Light breeze ahead but such a swirling 4-knot tide that we made good headway and sometime about 8 or 9 o’clock ran into a little hole in the wall behind a breakwater where after some trouble we found water enough to float us. Wilmington, Delaware, was just over in back of a long nearby jetty.
November 11th. Came bright and fair but dead calm. We put the launch on ahead and H. towed me down river to Delaware City which we reached at 9:30 just as tide was setting ahead. The day starting in quite cold, suddenly turned southerly and so warm that thermometer went to 80 degrees in the sun. We filled water tanks at dock and then locked into canal basin where we tied up to the side of the main street of the town. Here we found a man and his wife whom we first met in the Raritan canal. They were bound to Florida in a little 26 foot open launch with canopy top. Heaven I hope will help the outfit or wreck them on some friendly shore, for the man had neither charts nor directions and didn’t even know the meaning or use of buoys. We had told him of the Rudder’s description of route and he was then waiting to receive copies. The little woman was losing courage and well she might, for in the southeaster a few days ago they had been soaked through, bedding and all, and the night of the northwest squall they had spent shivering while tied to a can buoy in Delaware River not knowing where they were or what to do. How comfortable our cosy little cabin did seem in comparison. Seeing them again reminded me of a little experience in the Raritan canal. We tried to pass a big barge going our way and when nearly by we took bottom and ran up good and plenty. The barge-man yelled out to “come off as ye come on” and left us. To budge the good ship I had to run a line ashore and heave her down with throat halliards. You bet it made my sore eye better when on passing the next bend I found the barge stuck hard and fast on a rock with no prospect of getting off this year. “Come off as ye come on” says I, and away we went. To hark back to Delaware City we put in the afternoon measuring off rigging for I don’t trust this and we’ll get new at Baltimore. Then we hauled out head and foot of mainsail and then we were both about all in for we have been working hard for a good many days and the change of weather did us both up brown. I took Scotty for a little walk but when she heard a dinner bell, she thought of the engine in the Raritan canal and bolted. Gee! how she flew. The Mascot not being near enough, she jumped into nearest open boat and crawled away up under forward deck from where I had to pull her by the tail. Night came and villainous urchins pounded with sticks on our smoke pipe.
November 12th. Comes fair and warm. Both feeling fine and my eyes all mended up. Off by nine into the country now beginning to look a little more southern. More leaves on the trees and the trunks festooned with vines. The canal with its little lakes and then again its narrow wooded cuts most beautiful. The warm sunlight flooded all and the distances were hazy blue and brown. It was a day of days. The bluebird perched on my finger and let me stroke its feathers, and Scotty curled up in my lap just the nicest, softest bunch of fur. Broiled steak and creamed potatoes for dinner. If I didn’t continually prove myself a fool I would think myself a philosopher—for I seem to come nearer to complete happiness more often than other folks. I have worked hard for it, too, in a way, and I believe that I have made such friends with bluebird that neither poverty, want or woe can drive him far away for long.
The beautiful delightful fourteen miles was mighty soon over and about 1:30 we locked out into the creek which leads to Elk River and the headwaters of old Chesapeake Bay. We ran aground promptly, but got off with help of launch and sail. Then we towed a bit and then with very light airs but fair tide, we beat down the beautiful reaches and were mighty glad to lose the sound of the launch’s puffing.
Oh! it sure was a dandy sail and when the sun set behind the highlands and the light clouds all turned a gorgeous crimson we slipped quietly into a little branch and anchored in the deep shadow of the shore and watched a flock of geese wing to the southard. This was what we came for and it was way up to expectations.
November 13th. Last night we turned in to the vibrant sound of honking geese in flight and this morning we turned out to the same tune. Not a breath of air and the bay like a mirror with shores veiled in bluish mist. Wonderful beyond anything. Put the launch astern and were soon on our way. So straight does she go when we fix launch just right that we both sat down in cabin to breakfast and let her go it alone. Ducks, ducks by the thousand, geese by the hundreds and hundreds. We chased big, long-necked Canada geese in flocks as if they were puddle ducks. I never expected to see such a sight. They all knew motor boat mightly well, however, and Helen Keller, the 22 rifle with Maxim silencer, whispered in vain, but mighty close by. It is a sporting proposition to get duck or goose meat with a 22 cal. at 150 or 200 yards with your boat going 4 knots and distance guessed at. No wind came until afternoon and we just puffed along while the crew cleaned ship after the dirty canal travel and kept busy in ordinary ship’s duties. Barometer slowly working down, also provisions. Better make Baltimore to-night although it hurts my pride not to hoist sail. Things look mighty different now from what they did with a bandage on one eye and a blue glass over the other. Age, however, must be creeping on for without glasses I can’t make out anything on a chart.
We jogged along until off entrance to Baltimore harbor where a smashing S. W. breeze struck in and we up sail and squared away for anchor. Baltimore being noted for its nasty harbor water, we ran up to South Baltimore in Curtis Bay, and as we were beating in got properly cussed by ferry boat captain for not having our lights lit. Said he would report us and some other things too. Hope he don’t for I was caught pretty lame. Scotty scared of motor today and fled behind stove where she stayed all day. Clouding up from southard and am glad to be in good harbor.