There can be no pleasure like the satisfaction of working as one of a group of people who really know what they are doing. Teamwork. The cream of the Wayfarer community. Jim Fraser, the local Wayfarer owner, had unhitched his boat from the van, raised the mast and launched it. Ralph had paddled it out to the pontoon, taken the hatches off, and was loading all the gear needed for ten days of cruising along the coast. 

Alan, standing on the harbour wall, noticed the little red rag, still on the end of the mast, now fifteen foot in the air. “Never mind,” said I, “we'll careen her just a little bit, then we can reach it from the harbour wall.” Alan grasped the main halyard, pulled the boat over and passed the rope to me. Very sensibly, I tied it off to a ladder to prevent it bouncing back. Alan pulled on the halyard some more whilst I, being taller, started to undo the knotted rag. 

Good knot this one; it was never going to come undone of its own accord. 

“I think she's shipping a bit of water,” says Alan. “Never mind,” says Jim, “she'll be fine, just get the knot undone.” 

Excellent knot this one; several layers of it. 

“Hang on a sec,” says I on tiptoe, “doing my best.” Alan pulls the top of the mast down a bit closer to my outstretched hand. That made it easier, “thanks,” I said. The knot was coming loose nicely, as water started to pour over the gunwale into the boat below. 

There was a shout from Ralph; “Let go of the mast, she's sinking.” I looked down to see the side decks nearly awash and my sleeping bag floating off into Shelburne Harbour. Ralph stared forlornly at the open front hatch where he had loaded much of our gear. He clambered into the boat to start baling the hundred gallons of cold water. It seemed an endless task. 

Jim made the suggestion of getting the boat to the slipway and draining the water out the back. Excellent idea. Ralph moved carefully to the foredeck to start paddling the boat across. “I’ll push you off,” says I, leaping down and shoving the boat towards the slipway. It travels only three feet before coming to a sudden halt. Ralph paddles furiously but the boat goes nowhere, though it does start to heel at a precarious angle, with water once more pouring in over the gunwale. “I think you must be aground,” I tell him helpfully.

“The halyard is still tied to the ladder,” observes Jim, looking at the bar-taut rope, coming horizontally out of the top of the mast. Ralph mutters something unprintable as a box of breakfast cereal floats up from under his legs. 

“You guys goin’ to risk sailing that thing out to sea?” drawls an incredulous voice from the harbour wall above. Harry O’Connor, with a sea-kindly face, late of the Canadian Coastguard, and now harbourmaster of this one, has been watching us with bemused interest. We grin sheepishly and decide it is time for a beer. After all, it is blowing a force seven, and the rain is near horizontal.

----- Original Message ----- 
From: jim fraser 
To: uncle-al@cogeco.ca 
Sent: Tuesday, January 07, 2003 5:49 PM
Subject: Wayfarer Cruise

Al
... Both Allan Parry and I were surprised that Hugh had written up the near loss of the Michael Ernst in Shelburne Harbour... If Mike's boat had been a total loss, we intended to rename the log: NOVA SCOTIA, HERE WE COME-(4 MEN IN 1 BOAT) and continue on as if nothing had happened. In the next edition of SHIPWRECKS OF SHELBURNE COUNTY, the truth would be 
tucked away in a short passage:

Sept 16, 2002 - Sailing Vessel- Michael Ernst - foundered - Shelburne Harbour- no loss of life

... Part way through the fiasco at Shelburne, I had returned to my Wayfarer to stow gear under the deck to keep it from getting any wetter.  Ralph came dashing along the wharf and wanted my bailer.  My bailing bucket was full of various lines which I didn't want to dump out in the bottom of the boat. Generously, I offered him my boat sponge instead. He had something graphic to say about me and the sponge, and demanded my bucket.  When I looked back at the other boat, I saw that the bow was almost underwater and a slop was washing over the side-decks. Perhaps he had a good cause to reject my sponge after all...

Best wishes for the New Year,

Jim