Two Boats

 The Wildflower and the Arethusa gave Dave plenty to do, constantly improving, rebuilding and adjusting. I was back to being a landlubber, mother, and working RN. Then came a day that is painful to remember, but a part of the story. I think it was because of an accident that I had, burned parts of my face, ear,  a trauma that I prefer to forget. Let's say it kept me out of the sun, off the water, and recovering quietly. We had owned the sailboat all of two months. While I healed, Dave began a new project. He reminded me of a bee, lots of energy, on track of a specific outcome, and could sense his plan coming together. Dave said to me one day, "I want to take a look at Arethusa's scuppers."  These are the holes that drain water out of the boat when it is moving. Then he said,"The cockpit feels a little spongy. There may be some rot. Might as well check under the floor while I'm at it." I knew what that meant, he was going to start ripping and tearing. Dave loved a good project, especially one that was connected to a boat. I loved to see his enthusiasm. His energy was infectious and I never said no.  I had witnessed what he could do. He built a twenty-three foot Swamscott dory, the Fanny Parnell  in his dad's garage in 1968. I sailed with him when it was launched, great sturdy, slow. I watched Dave and two of his friends, Marty, and Peter sail the Fanny Parnell in front of the breakwater in Provincetown Harbor. The dory Dave had built, was tipped on its starboard side with three big fishermen weighting down the port. That Fanny Parnell is now over fifty years old and sits in the parking lot of Moby Dick's Restaurant, in Wellfleet MA where kids climb in it and adults admire the full length planks. Dave built things to last. 

Arethusa was the project he took on in 1978. Rebuilding the cockpit was not unique and a good diversion while I healed.  He made a sort of workshop on the water: Dave bought a fourteen-foot float, attached it to a thousand pound mooring, and then tied the Arethusa to one side and the Wildflower to the other. "It's sort of my backyard on the water," Dave told me. The Wildflower provided generator, tools, and working equipment. Our home, seven miles to the harbor, is a short ride,a so he came home from work every evening, and sometimes during the day to pick up more tools or wood. "If I could clone myself," he said, "we could start our own boat-building business." I remembered the dory and what Dave said to me when he sold it. "The Fanny Parnell's not big enough." I knew then, that he had plans, dreams, and desires. 

Ripping out the cockpit on the Arethusa didn't take long, but the project kept getting bigger. "I tore out the floors in the cockpit today," he said. I listened as he explained. "I'll put in new ribs that are sistered to the old ones." He steamed wood in the garage and explained how the project was coming along. He brought home piles of debris that were sorted into keep, dump, and questionable piles. He bought boxes of screws, cans of glue, and all kings of epoxy and cloth. He purchased specialty lumber like white oak, cypress and mahogany from yards that it took all day to drive to. No fishing, no work for me and our funds were heading in the wrong direction. It worried me. It took patience and faith to keep going. That's when Dave would take me in his arms and say, "Let me know when the bank account gets really low and I'll go out and make a withdrawal from Cape Cod Bay and Trust." The work on the cockpit took more that two months. The anxiousness that I felt was soothed away with time. I went back to work. Dave was back fishing. "See I told you everything would work out, don't worry, but don't quit your day job just yet." We laughed. The Arethusa went up onto the the railway in Provincetown where her bottom was check and painted. A ladder was braced between the railway timbers and her hull. The ladder to get into Arethusa, seemed to be sixteen feet to climb, I was terrified of the heights but had to get back to that beautiful sailboat. I felt the attraction, looked forward to sailing again. I didn't know it at that time, but that rebuilt of the stern, scuppers, and cockpit would one day save our lives.