Point Conception

Worked on a schooner in California years ago. Me and the Bosun were shaking out the crew for morning chores, scrubbing the deck and polishing brass.

A new deckhand was scheduled to join. She was from Maine, so we’d hoped she had some experience. Sitting at the end of the dock, however, was a girl in a lavender vinyl pant suit, LLBean duck boots, and the cutest little suitcase.

She had just graduated college with an Art Degree. After a two week sailing excursion in Camden, she’d decided to try her hand at sailing. Calling around to various boats, our office was the first to take her in. Lucky us!

She was bright enough. But a maritime education, starting from scratch, on a wooden sailing ship. Let me tell you, we got our steps in.

Slowly but surely she learned the ropes. Off came the shoes, unless working aloft. Away went the heavy garments that just soak up water, in favor of a tshirt and light khaki pants. Gloves gave way to calloused hands. And throw that god-forsaken Swiss Army Knife over the side!

One day she was splicing ratlines and it hit me. I looked around for the Bosun. His eyes twinkled and he tried not to smile. It was time. We knocked everyone off early and ran some much needed errands.

After dinner we gathered in the fo’c’sle, where the crew bunked. In the gloom of the musty compartment, the ceremony began. We passed around a bottle of rum and shared it with all but her. Each crew member read a selected passage or poem.

The Bosun’s contribution was a personalized version of The Ice Worm by Robert Service. He recited it from memory, slowly and deliberately. As he read the final lines, we presented the bottle of rum to her. Mourning her former life, she let go a few tears and took a big slug from the bottle. Then the Bosun handed her a new rigging knife, straight bladed with a thick back to accept hammer blows, for that stubborn line or wire.

We were a tight bunch. Passengers would comment how well we got along. How effortless we made it look.

Our last trip of the season was a week long transit from Long Beach to Monterrey, beating up the whole way. Some maintenance before the Summer season started, then change out with another crew.

Anchored in Catalina, we made plans to travel together. What about our newest shipmate? She’d had a boyfriend back home. But she was pretty sure that was over. He wasn’t a sailor. But how to break it to him? Leave that to me!

I picked a postcard at the store in Two Harbors. I wrote, She had found a new love. And that love is the sea. And once the sea has ahold of your soul, you can never get free. Not knowing the boyfriend’s name, I simply stamped it and gave it to her. She read it, gave me a hug, then posted it before we sailed.

The trip north wasn’t particularly rough. Fifteen foot swells from the Northwest. Typical for Point Conception. But we lost the bobstay and a backstay, so the Captain decided to run back to Long Beach for repairs. It was an easy point of sail, but it put the waves on our port quarter.

I had the 4-8 Watch, traditional for the Chief Mate. I came into the cockpit at 1550 to relieve the Bosun. Both watches, almost a dozen people, were scattered about the deck for turnover. A shadow loomed over my left shoulder and a huge wave swept half the deck, rolling the ship to starboard and dragging crew and passengers with it.

Quick hands got ahold of the passengers, halting their departure. But the curly locks of our Mainer went over the side and starting drifting astern. The dreaded call of Man Overboard went up as life rings and life jackets were tossed over the side.

I stayed with the ship in Long Beach while the rest of the crew flew to Maine for the service. The Bosun returned and described the scene. The family had been understanding of what had happened. While they weren’t sailors, life in coastal Maine gave them a healthy respect for the sea.

But the Bosun was still uneasy. What is it, I asked. I met the boyfriend, he said. He was pretty shaken. Shortly after getting the news of the accident he received a postcard.