As soon as a new boat is fit to move, she is taken out for sea trials. I saw the USS BOISE lashing Penobscot Bay into suds from Owls Head across to Stand In Point by shifting abruptly from full ahead to full reverse. And I pushed my five-year-old son off for a sea trial in his first punt, OSPREY. So when Ralph Stanley had built us the hull of a 28-foot schooner, when we had rigged her, stepped her masts and bent her sails, we knew it was time for sea trials.
It was a cool, gray day in mid-October. I had for a crew the co-owner, my wife, Mary; that same son, now 56; and an old ally and former shipmate, Hugh Williams. We carefully set the new sails, still showing the creases where sailmaker Nat Wilson had folded them, and pushed off to beat down Linekin Bay in a moderate southwest breeze.
DOROTHY ELIZABETH heeled comfortably. The water whispered under her forefoot, swished aft just below her lee rail and fell away under her counter, leaving only a scar on the face of the bay that soon healed. We each took a turn at the wheel and regretfully agreed that she would not sail closer than six points from the wind. I soon convinced myself that her speed through the water would make up for that.
Outside the bay, a three-foot sea was rolling in from the Gulf of Maine. She shouldered the smaller seas aside, rose easily to the bigger ones and slid into the troughs between. No hesitation, no pounding.
“Let’s try her off the wind.” We headed off to the east around the south end of Fishermans Island. A schooner likes the wind on her quarter. DOROTHY ELIZABETH picked up her skirts and flew. The knot meter read seven and a half, but it had not been calibrated. Still, she exceeded expectations.
We swung off then to run before the wind between The Hypocrites ledge to starboard and the ledge east of Fishermans Island to port, both fore and main sails far out on the port side and the ledge about 150 yards to port. To pass north of the ledge, we would have to tack or jibe. I chose the more conservative course, to tack. DOROTHY ELIZABETH swung sharply to starboard into the wind’s eye and stopped. She slipped backward and fell off on the port tack headed toward the ledge. The falls of the main sheet were entangled in the wheel spokes and in my game leg. My crew sheeted the jibs to starboard and I found myself headed for a wicked ledge under full sail, unable to steer and unable to slack the main sheet. Something had to be done fast and now, or DOROTHY ELIZABETH would beat her brains out on unforgiving rock. I didn’t even look up. I struggled with the wheel, got it clear enough to turn some. I turned to port, toward the wind, perhaps thinking that if I slowed her down, it would lessen the crash. My crew realized what I was trying to do and let go the jib sheets. DOROTHY ELIZABETH tacked away from the ledge. I disentangled my leg. We jibed in a well-controlled manner and sailed home. Hugh observed that being severely frightened occasionally is good for the circulation.
The first time I tried for the mooring, I missed it because I misjudged how far she would range into the wind. The second time I missed because I misjudged her turning circle. The third time I got close enough so my crew would just reach the mooring buoy.
Sea trials! Who got tired, DOROTHY ELIZABETH or her skipper? She proved herself a good little schooner. Saving half a point to windward, she sailed beautifully on every point of sailing. I did not meet my sea trials as well. I will have to get used to her limitations and allow for them and learn to keep the main sheet clear of the wheel spokes.
As we rowed ashore, I looked back at her. She passed the beauty test brilliantly, but you can’t say as much for her skipper.