First Sail

By David W. Brewin

It was a lovely day in early May when the weather broke long enough to get the new Drascombe Lugger into the water. It had been a miserable spring here along Boston’s North Shore, what with one storm following on the heels of another during the entire month of April. The local fishermen, who still fish off the beach, could be found manning the railings below the Fish House four mornings out of five instead of out working their traps. One of their rules of thumb is that if you can see the surf breaking off Egg Rock and Nahant’s Back Rocks from the Fish House, it’s not a good day to be fishing.

Fellow Swampscott Yacht Club member Alex Esteverena, my son Andrew and I met on the town slip about an hour past high tide to prep the Lugger for a trial sail. The sun was shining through fat, fluffy fair-weather clouds, the temperature was in the high 50’s, and a pleasant breeze was blowing across the harbor from the west. And for the first time in over two weeks I couldn’t see any white water around Egg Rock.

We spent about 20 minutes setting the boat up while still on the trailer. I’d practiced a few times back in the driveway so it went quickly. There is nothing more embarrassing for the crew of a new boat than to be arguing about what goes where on launch day under the watchful gaze of the local wharf rats. It was still early enough in the season to keep the audience small and most of those present kept their comments to admiring the Lugger’s lines. One fellow, just coming in from rod fishing out of an 8-foot pram, suggested it might be getting a little rough for an open boat.

“I’m done for the day,” he announced. “Too rough for me.” His pram, an old wooden box, flat at both bow and stern, was at the bottom of the slip. They are ugly little vessels, but tough, with a lot of buoyancy. He’d have been safe but uncomfortable in a chop, which, I noticed looking past his boat, was what seemed to be growing out there in the bay. Nothing the Lugger couldn’t handle.

Andrew took truck duties while Alex and I guided the boat into the water.  Ah, the beauty of well-greased rollers on a new trailer! The boat slid into the water with a minimum amount of manual help, a situation that happens only rarely on this less-than perfect ramp. We jumped in and pushed off while Andrew hauled the trailer away.

From here everything had to happen quickly before the wind drove us into the pier, no more than 15 feet away. Alex and I swapped places so I could get to the stern to lower the rudder and start the engine. She started on the first pull and we were under way. I backed her down to get away from the end of the slip then swung her west into the wind to get away from the pier. Alex lowered the centerboard. That fisherman had been right on, it was getting rough out here. I hadn’t noticed before but the wind had picked-up to about 15 knots. Nothing the Lugger couldn’t handle, though.

Like the boat and the trailer, the engine was also new and we had not found the screw to keep it from swiveling while we steered with the tiller. Imagine my surprise when she headed back into the pier on her own! I must have yelled my surprise out loud as Alex turned around and noticed the position of the engine right away.  One crisis averted.

My plan was to head outside the mooring area to give us maneuvering room while we set the sails. When I thought we were far enough out Alex and I swapped places again so I could raise the mast while he steered us into the wind.  At least I thought I asked him to head into the wind, but looking back on it now I couldn’t have as for the next 10 minutes we headed in every direction except West! I suspect he was fiddling with the mizzen. Meanwhile, the wind was still building, calling for a reefed main. I hauled the boom up to a spot that looked right and secured the line to its belaying pin. A real salty touch those pins.

Putting the ties in for the reef was no problem but I was all thumbs trying to attach the sheet to the clew. We were taking on some spray by this time so the new Dacron sail was slippery wet. As I lost my purchase on the sail, the wind took it and slapped it in my face. I managed to secure it on the third try, but then one of my beautifully tied reef points fell out.  And then I got a mouthful of very cold water as we caught a wave just right. And then … but you get the picture.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that we were out here for fun. Alex brought us around into the wind and I managed to get the main set and hauled the jib out. Alex killed the engine and immediately everything calmed down. The boat heeled slightly as she fell off the wind and we were sailing! And moving quite briskly, too! We swapped once again so I could drive and I was tickled pink at how responsive she was. We practiced tacking a couple of times before heading back to the end of the pier to pick up Andrew and I found her responsive and steady.

The floats were still in the parking lot so we were going to have to pick Andrew off a ladder on the leeward side of the pier. We sailed in briskly and when I judged the time right, came across the wind and let the sails go. Not a bad maneuver, but I missed the end of the ladder by 10 feet. While I thought of what I was going to have to do to come around again, the swells pushed us back into the pilings and Andrew stepped aboard. “Nice job, Dad,” he complimented me as he took his seat. Who was I to correct him?  I had a bad moment as the stern swung down between the pilings. I could imagine only too vividly the sound of the boomkin snapping, but I managed to push us away safely. In no time we were on a run away from the pier, building speed.

When I judged we had enough speed, I brought her around to pass through the moored lobster boats to the Bay.  She pointed closer to the wind than I had expected and was definitely faster than I anticipated.  The wind and the fact that we had three 200 pounders aboard helped, I’m sure. Alex sails an S2 7.9 and, earlier in the day, was crowing about his new asymmetrical jib and how he was going to be hard to beat this summer in the club races. “Ha! I yelled at him in exuberance. “Keep your S2’s and Pearsons! I’m coming after all of you this year!”

We waved to the walkers along Lynn Shore Drive as we headed for Red Rock before reversing course and heading for the Spindle off Galloupes Point. Oh what a day! We got sprayed a little due to the chop, but I changed the heading slightly to take the chop on the quarter and the swells abeam and she rode nice and dry. The three of us were all grins, even Andrew who prefers powerboats.

“What are you going to call her?” Alex asked.

“Nabucco,” I yelled back. His face lit up and he broke into song.

“Va pensiero, sull’ali dorate!” So much for having to explain where the name came from. Back in Argentina where he’d grown up, Alex and his fellow cadets had a teacher who was a big opera fan and made them listen to Verdi’s Nabucco until they could sing it in their sleep. The opening line of the chorus had been their greeting to one another for years afterwards. “Excellent!” he called back.

Soon it was time to drop Andrew off at the pier for another appointment. We sailed into the harbor right down the channel, passing to the lee of the pier, rounded up and stopped dead at the ladder. Andrew shook his head in admiration as he stepped off the boat onto the ladder. Alex pushed the bow off and we were away again, waving goodbye to Andrew as he made his way up the pier. Oh, to be able to do that in July with a harbor full of people watching!

We made our way back through the fishing fleet into the bay. Alex took over the tiller while we played around, boxing the compass on different points of sail and sail combinations for the next hour. At one point we doused the main and tried tacking on jib and mizzen alone, but failed until we learned to let the mizzen go as well as the jib. Before we knew it it was time to head in.  As we approached the beach I noted that the tide was too far along to use the ramp and decided to run right up on the sand. Alex thought I was crazy but half the pictures I’ve seen of Luggers show them on the beach while their crew enjoys a picnic. “Don’t worry, Alex,” I told him. “It’s nothing Nabucco can’t handle!”

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