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SailingJuly 14, 2006 So what would you do if a friend called at about half past noon on an utterly perfect July day and invited you to come along for the first sail of the season? I racked my brain for plausible reasons that the sky might fall in if I took the rest of the day off. I'd already revised a story, written a press release and updated a flyer (both for a community sing on Lambert's Cove Beach July 25, 5 p.m. -- if you're here, come!), queried the editor about a book review I'm writing, ascertained that the job I was expecting to see Monday is running late, and put out some feelers about filling in the resulting hole . . . In other words the weeds hadn't exactly been growing under my butt, and my guilt gene seems to be recessive; only when paired with the fear-of-poverty gene does it significantly influence my behavior. I said I'd be at Owen Park by 1:30, about an hour away. I tossed a long-sleeve cotton shirt, sun screen, and my wallet into a plastic satchel, buckled on my faux-Birkenstock sandals, and headed into town, stopping at Cumby's for Doritos (on sale, 2 bags for $5; my lucky day) and Triscuits before walking along the beach from the ferry dock to Owen Park. Captain Jim was standing just off the dock in Malabar II; shortly thereafter Ginny drove into the parking lot, bringing the beer. Jim passed along the news: someone had fallen from the rigging of the Alabama, a majestic 90-foot schooner that along with the 108-foot Shenandoah dominates Vineyard Haven harbor. Before we left the harbor, we learned that it was a young crew member, and that he had died. Stan Rogers's song "White Squall," about a young sailor on the Great Lakes who is caught aloft by a squall and is lost when the boat heels so steeply the mast touches the water, slipped into my mind and still hasn't left: "I told that kid a hundred times / Don't take the lakes for granted / They'll go from calm to a hundred knots / so fast they seem enchanted." Ginny noted that the sails on proud, usually immaculate Alabama were barely furled, as if she'd been evacuated in a hurry. We passed her several times on the way out of the harbor and again on the way home: no signs of activity on board. Activity abounded everywhere else, however, in the harbor, on shore, and out in Vineyard Sound, and no wonder, for it really was a perfect day. My sailing experience is almost entirely on very small boats, mainly Sunfish. Malabar II is a 41-foot gaff-rigged schooner so elegant in her lines and so beautifully maintained that people stop what they're doing to watch her pass. If you saw the movie Message in a Bottle, that was Malabar II. It's easy to see why she got the part; general consensus is that with the possible exception of Paul Newman, she turned in the film's best performance. Jim and Ginny are very experienced sailors. I know just enough to stay out of trouble, but I was pleased to be asked to help hoist the fore- and mainsails. Fair winds took us across the sound to Falmouth and back; we crossed the paths of the fast ferry, several slow ferries, and dozens of smaller craft, some powered by motor but many more under sail. I watched the boats, and the sails, and the water rushing by on the leeward side; the water is a powerful alive thing, and riding it is a little like riding a horse. So many times I've gazed down from the top deck of the ferry Islander, marveling at those fortunate enough to be under sail. This time I looked up at the passengers on the Islander and the Martha's Vineyard and counted myself lucky. Back in the harbor, we passed by Martha's Vineyard Shipyard to pick up some lightbulbs. A launch party was under way: we saw the Ensa, once a wreck, now beautifully rebuilt, lowered into the water and afloat. Ginny said that the launch of a boat reminded her of the birth of a foal. A day that began with a death was ending with a beginning: there was good in that. P.S. From the front page of the July 20, 2006, Martha's Vineyard Times: "Eighteen-year-old Benjamin Sutherland of Concord died Friday when he fell from the rigging of the Vineyard Haven schooner Alabama to the deck. Mr. Sunderland was in his first year as crew on the 90-foot passenger vessel. The Coast Guard's Marine Safety Office in Providence is investigating the accident." The rest of the story about the young man and the accident can be found at www.mvtimes.com.
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