Approaching the pier as they walked the now moon lit beach, skipping shells and bullying each other in idle threats, there appeared a lone dark figure. He stood on the shore end of the wooden pier. At first, the kids immediately thought it was just the preacher man, as he was the only one in the company of that size to cast a larger shadow. No chance, this shadowed pilgrim was heavier and more powerfully built. He moved a few impatient paces outboard with a hitch in his step that revealed a false or damaged leg. His left arm fell below the waist to his thigh, holding a wide brim hat in its thick and gnarly hand. The now full moon cast a milky white and greenish glow around his face making it a ghostly mask. Long black dirty hair and a full beard failed to hide the thick scar that started below his left eye, raced across the bridge of his nose, then dropped down his right cheek. His cutlass and scabbard, handle well worn, was tucked into a leather belt smeared with saltwater stains.

The boys stopped, speechless, and stared at the imposing figure, hoping it was some momentary bad flash. And the eerie moon that had appeared unnoticed before hand drenched the stage featuring this phantom statue. Unlike any dream or mariner’s yarn, it spoke crystal clear and refused to leave or disappear back into the shadowy night. Had they stepped into some empty hole in time?

“I hear you mates be lookin’ for ole Clayton’s rewards,” his gravelly voice penetrated the summer’s night.

Neither child could answer the query nor speak to its barbed request, as their jaws and tongues were paralyzed with fear. The very presence of this apparition commanded their silence. Then he spoke again,

“Now, lissen ye and lissen well, for I’ll parlay no more. The pearls and gold are the Captain’s haul and the terms laid down say it be divided amongst the crew of the Cloah Sark. No other scoundrel can claims a share, least they be seek’n the wrath of Jack Clayton. So it is and I am Boson Hicksey what lays it down.”

The dark figure then turned and headed seaward on the pier. The only sound was the uneven thunk and step, thunk and step, of his wooden leg. He moved with a strange rolling gait formed by years of a heaving deck, most peculiar to a mariner and no other traveler. Out he struck to the end of the pier, then with silky ease for a powerful man, slipped down into a darkened shadow of a long boat hull. He barked out a ferocious command to the waiting crew.

“Shove off mates and make way. Put your backs into it, our work is done this night.”

Then the rowers pulled the heavy thole penned sweeps and quickly moved out to the dark horizon. A quick glance of any weather’s eye would have revealed a coal oil lantern held in the bow by a crusty mate to show the way and a large coxswain holding firm to the tiller. He had not a hair on his head with a loop of gold falling from one ear. This whole motley crew was laden with a lifetime of miserable and unpardonable acts. Their course was the dark shoreline across the way, now absent of any small twinkling lights. But, wait. Was there a silhouette of a black hulled schooner lying to her hook? No mind, for it all became one and disappeared.


Review


Adventure, mystery, and a child’s curiosity have been combined to craft a book of basic seamanship for children. Pirates of the Golden Age and the romance of the sea are blended together to explain the often confusing technical world of the mariner. A must for the seagoing library of every cruising family, Book II begins with a novella, Potomac River Fever. You will sign on with a crew of laughable and lovable characters that resemble someone from everyone’s neighborhood. They spend a hot summer searching a real island, an uninhabited lighthouse, a buried treasure and even come upon a ghost or two.

The To Touch the Wind series is a collection of reference books to read time and time again. Skippers and mates will enjoy the lessons in Book II on buoys, markers, and navigation rules. It includes the history and workings of lighthouses. The reader travels from St. Augustine, Florida, to Maryland’s St. Clements Island.

Tidewater life along the east coast is defined by the glorious smells of salt air and waterfront kitchens. Section Three in “Pieces of Ate” shares magnificent classic seafood recipes hundreds of years in the making. “Aryster shuck’n,” oyster stew, cream of crab soup, and the coveted crab imperial will intoxicate the senses. This section offers, too, activities for children and adults alike. From Morse code to signal flags, the possibilities are limitless for fun and adventure on the high seas.

In Section Four, “Chessie and Me” tells the tale of a tiny wooden skif called Chessie. It is a story that begins in a small Eastern Shore town, then moves on to a world stage. Following that is a set of drawings, plans and step-by-step instructions on how to build this child’s first boat, launching dreams and adventures that can last a lifetime. Put your mark to the “Articles of Service” and come with us to touch the wind.