I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by. – John Masefield
Tuesday, 8 July
“Seven o’clock,” stated with the authority that can be employed only by a young officer of a tall ship. And then, asked whether the wind might again delay the Morgan’s departure, “We leave at seven.” Any other stupid questions?
Nope. And duly informed, Steadfast was made ready to cast off from Pope’s Island in time Tuesday to watch the restored Charles W. Morgan leave New Bedford Harbor.
Once she dropped her mains and topsails, there was no keeping up. Steadfast followed in her wake, though, turning due east at the channel’s Red-4, opening the genny to sail well south of West Island past, then to a heading of 030 M to the mouth of Sippican Harbor. By the time, she’d snaked around Ram Island to Marion’s inner harbor, it was a nearly nineteen-mile day, averaging 4½ knots with just the genoa, thanks to the so’westerly that’s kicked up Buzzards Bay ever since Arthur left town.
Marion is lovely. A stroll around town reveals a succession of streets lined with historic cedar-shingled homes leading to the General Store, ice cream parlor, Post Office and a handful of offices on Front Street. Tabor Academy’s just down the road.
With a southerly gusting to 25 or 30, though, the harbor does get a bit rolly, even tucked behind the island. Not the worst night, mind you, but far from sound slumber on a placid pond.
That is, unless one might be aboard the nearly replica Mystic Whaler, the 100-foot-long schooner that sailed up the Bay and tucked in here this evening on her way to join the Morgan tomorrow.
Seeing off one tall ship in the morning, greeting a second after dinner. Aye-aye, quite the day!
Steadfast out.




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