November 14th. This day was a hustle like all the previous ones. I went to town and bought provisions and new rigging, but found there was no way of ever getting them to Curtis Bay which I also found was reputed the most notoriously disreputable suburb of Baltimore. Didn’t get back to boat until 3 p.m. when H. met me all dolled up to go to his Uncle Alfred’s to supper. I started the launch, got gallied with the tiller lines and ran her bang into the wharf. No damage and soon on board where I had supper and wrote letters and then fell sound asleep so that H. returning, had to hire a launch to bring him on board.
November 15th. Comes with drifting cloud and cold, raw wind from the west where snow is reported in the mountains. Got under way at once, and beat up harbor in smashing breeze to anchorage off Maryland Motor Boat Club. A very Christian place. While I was cooking breakfast, H. went ashore for our supplies and without life preservers, fire extinguisher or whistle in launch fell right into hands of revenue officer who said he must report him. What with being caught without side lights the other night, and without launch fixings today, things are beginning to be interesting. We rove, spliced and whipped new gang of rigging this morning and she looks more shipshape. Must now go ashore for last things and there is the revenue cutter waiting at wharf. Had launch full of preservers and bric-a-brac, no trouble. On board for nice quiet evening at knitting.
November 16th. Comes sharply cold with breeze N. W. Off by 7:15 and after breakfast and clearing up put spinnaker to her in freshening breeze and away we went down Chesapeake to the tune of “forward and back with ladies change.” The breeze hauling by west made me try spinnaker as balloon jib but wind was too puffy and nearly lost my boom so had to take it in. Saw a herd of black and white cows ahead. No law on stray cows at sea so I got one with one barrel and H. took another with other barrel and their carcasses soon aboard. On past Annapolis where the Naval School buildings looked grandly beautiful. Can’t stop today but see you on our way back. Busy as bees all morning. Basket of oysters to be cleaned and now and then one opened. So good, so good. Then I opened a dozen or so and H. made a pie which is baking as I write, and the sun is going down gloriously clear, and up under the shore with leg-o-mutton sails and long raking spars the oyster sloops are racing home for the night. How short the day. Half-past four and we are getting lanterns ready. Let the wind only hold at this, and I will take her a long way from here before the sun peeks at me again. I believe it is right to drive south steadily and loaf along on the up route because it is too cold and young ice will be along soon. A year ago Baltimore was buried in snow and had a zero temperature. Not any for mine. The wind dropped with the sun and after hour of loafing along in the light of a good moon, we dropped anchor and turned in at 11 p.m.
November 17th. Comes without a cloud or a breath of wind. Turned over and snoozed it out until 7. Then up and doing. I had remains of oyster pie for my breakfast and H. stuffed griddles. A regular Chesapeake morning. The Bay a mirror and dotted with sail of all kinds. We got away with launch astern but by 10:30 a cold whiffle came down from north and it was soon eight hands around, and away to a smashing breeze with white caps dancing alongside. We are tearing at it as I write and yet it seems impossible down here in the cozy little cabin with good fire going, sunlight pouring through the open hatch and kitty, who has just eaten and then thrown up the leg of a sea fowl, asleep in my lap. All the comforts of home in 24′ 7″. Don’t it beat all? And just as I finished writing the above sizzle it came butt-ends on and then some. We were over-blown in no time so it was bring her to it and reef in a vicious chop of a sea. Put in the best reef yet and in ship-shape style. H. is all right. Papa felt so good he tied down the leach earing himself. Away again in search of palm trees for this norther was cutting cold. It blew on steadily and soon every sail on the bay but ourselves had run to cover in some little hole in the wall. We drew out into the broad mouth of the Potomac and such a hubble-bubble as there was and the breeze pricking on all the time. The launch still without cover began to lap up the water and was soon shooting from side to side. I dropped my peak to ease things but couldn’t do much. Sea tumbling every which way and more to come. In the holes we could see whiff-on-pooffs laughing. I was below eating dinner when H. yelled “she’s gone.” Sure thing. The launch had stripped the big quarter cleat off the deck and was headed to sea far astern. Thank goodness she wasn’t sunk. Then it was down board up peak and haul sheets. Oh! a fine, noble little ship she is. She looked up into that crooked water like a major. Into Henry’s bunk went my bean dinner, coffee, etc., etc. Round she came and everything else went into mine. Just before reaching the launch an old, whopping sea spilled lanterns, cans, pans, coal and me into the scuppers, and before I could get my wheel again, we all but hit the launch beam on. Just got by but couldn’t catch her. Made a sporting pickup on next try, but saw at once that she would soon roll over if not bailed out. Dropped peak, laid to and H. jumped aboard and bailed out like a sailor. Then away again and found that with a very long painter she did pretty well. Was trying to get round next point without tacking, but the sea was almost breaking and my lead giving me only 2½ fath. In a cast or two I got only 1½ fath. and the water straight up and down. The sooner the quicker and we made a fancy North river jibe and hauled off shore. Soon found easier going and tacking her smartly just inside Smith’s Point Light, we squared away for Great Wicomico River which we entered for a delightfully quiet harbor at 6 p.m. after a truly sporting day. In half an hour we sat down to roast chicken, baked potatoes and brown gravy. Henry getting so used to these little merry-go-rounds that he don’t turn a hair now while a few weeks ago they made his teeth chatter. He says he didn’t know yachting was anything like this and I tell him it “ain’t.” This is boating and to get little boats over big distances you must drive them. There was some whipping to canvas with peak dropped today and a nasty batten poked thro’ the sail and before it tore loose and went to leeward it ripped a foot or more of canvas. Also tore out lazy jack boom block, loosened poop deck irons and split one of the boards. H. thinks we better lay up and repair while there is something left to repair, but they are all non-essentials while this norther is very much an essential towards making southing, so on we go with halliards flying and no down haul. Like Jorrocks, I feel like saying “Yachting is the sport of kings, the essence of war with all the glory and only twenty-five per cent of the danger.”
November 18th. Came as bright, crisp and snappy as you please. Under way by 8:45 still clinging to our single reef, although barometer was up after a 2 point drop yesterday for that breeze. With wide sheet we slipped along the shore heading about due south. Again the sails and the fleets of oyster boats. The shore not misty blue but clear cut in the smart northerly air, and the water a deep, wholesome blue. And so on with the breeze always pricking on and driving us faster, but without the concentrated venom of the day before and our single reef just handsome canvas. Past the mouth of the Rappahannock where the seas picked up and with only 2 fath. of water, we were almost out of sight of land. Old squaw stew for dinner, and Henry had to run from the cabin. First touch of mutiny on board. He allowed he would desert at Norfolk or right then and there if I gave him any more sea fowl to eat. Foolish boy, he needs starving. Scotty and I finished the stew. Away past Mobjack Bay; the York River, and as night fell we beat up into the little hole called Back Bay and dropped anchor at 5:45 having done 48 knots in the 9 hours run or 54 land miles. With Norfolk only 18 miles away, I feel as if we had about knocked this stretch to pieces. But what a chance I had at it.
November 19th. Comes calm and as pretty as a picture. Found us anchored in a snug little harbor and surrounded by busy oystermen. Fried oysters for breakfast, and we took our time, so that it was 11 o’clock before we tripped our hook and started for Norfolk only 18 miles away. There’s where we just missed it for the wind hauled E. S. E. and gave it to us right in the eye with a mean, short, little hubble-bubble that old Mascot found it particularly hard to negotiate. A miserable little sloop-rigged dugout manned by three niggers gave me the beating of my life. She was about 30 ft. long and slid through that chop as if greased. I still held to my reef and with launch in tow made slow but mighty comfortable going. Worked the shore down to Old Point Comfort but taking a strong ebb tide there we had to get whole sail on her and seriously work our passage up Hampton Roads where “Lay the Cumberland Sloop of war.” The wind failed as the sun went down and night found us seeking some little quiet corner in the big, busy harbor of Norfolk which was crowded with barges and schooners waiting cargoes. I counted seven five-masters and one six-master. Henry towed awhile, but we got aground and then a little night air springing up we slowly worked her up past the wharves to a quiet little berth among some other small craft. We are 35 days from Potomska and count up just 21 sailing days. We must stop here and fix up for a day or two sure.
November 20th to November 26th. At anchor Norfolk. Most of the time put in while running back and forth to our meals ashore. We did finally complete the cover to the launch and get a new quarter cleat bolted down. We were a trifle fine in spots, and I made H. spend a day by himself which did him good. We passed a day inspecting terminus of Virginia R. R. and one afternoon we actually loafed an hour or two on board. We met two young fellows who were bound to New Orleans in a 26 ft. launch and writing up a story of their trip for publication in the Motor World. Their boat was the most complete mess I ever saw. Their photo outfit took up most all available space, and what was left held a typewriter in a big box. Four gallons of water in two little stone jugs was all the wet goods carried. When they arrived they brought the remains of a canopy top which had blown off one day in the Bay. They seemed happy enough, however, and spent an evening on board and took a picture of “Scotty.” The Mascot with all the room pleased them much.
