A Boaters Tale…
'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the boat
Not a creature was stirring, no sound from the float;
The lines were hung by the boom with care,
In hopes that new sails would soon be there;
The crew were nestled all snug in their bunks,
While snores from too much grog declared they were drunk;
Checked the Morning Watch, to assure he’s awake,
Had just settled down for a bit of a break,
When out on the water there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter.
Away to the companionway I flew like a flash,
Threw off my blanket, am I acting to rash?
The moon on the breaks of the rising sea swell
Made white caps glisten like sun on a ships bell,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Red morning sky to this aged Buccaneer,
The west sky was dark, the clouds so thick,
Rain coming, could it be the hurricane named Nick?
More rapid than eagles the winds, cause disarray,
They whistle and groan, then a VHF MAYDAY.
As sheets of rain before the winds do streak
When meet with an obstacle beneath the edges do peek.
Then grabs the cloth, asunder to tear,
A ripping sound, all sailors beware.
MAYDAY MAYDAY, Destiny here,
My anchor is dragging, the rocks sound near.
There’s water in the bilge, I’m worried we’ll founder,
We’re donning our gear, quick turn on the sounder.
So up to the helm, the crew they did fly,
Their arms full of PFD’s, the Captain did eye.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the water
The growl and cough, a rescue craft yachter.
As I drew in my breath, and was turning around,
Out of the marina, the vessel did bound.
Lights flashing on, all boatsmen awake,
For a vessel’s in trouble make no mistake.
Quick to the site, the rescue boat sped.
Reach out with lines, assuage alls dread.
Destiny saved the danger averted,
If only they’d used a better anchor, SBO member blurted,
Tis way too late to be concerned.
Better to stop now. Before I get burned.
Credit for concept to Clement Clarke Moore
All rights reserved....
'Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the boat
Not a creature was stirring, no sound from the float;
The lines were hung by the boom with care,
In hopes that new sails would soon be there;
The crew were nestled all snug in their bunks,
While snores from too much grog declared they were drunk;
Checked the Morning Watch, to assure he’s awake,
Had just settled down for a bit of a break,
When out on the water there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter.
Away to the companionway I flew like a flash,
Threw off my blanket, am I acting to rash?
The moon on the breaks of the rising sea swell
Made white caps glisten like sun on a ships bell,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Red morning sky to this aged Buccaneer,
The west sky was dark, the clouds so thick,
Rain coming, could it be the hurricane named Nick?
More rapid than eagles the winds, cause disarray,
They whistle and groan, then a VHF MAYDAY.
As sheets of rain before the winds do streak
When meet with an obstacle beneath the edges do peek.
Then grabs the cloth, asunder to tear,
A ripping sound, all sailors beware.
MAYDAY MAYDAY, Destiny here,
My anchor is dragging, the rocks sound near.
There’s water in the bilge, I’m worried we’ll founder,
We’re donning our gear, quick turn on the sounder.
So up to the helm, the crew they did fly,
Their arms full of PFD’s, the Captain did eye.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the water
The growl and cough, a rescue craft yachter.
As I drew in my breath, and was turning around,
Out of the marina, the vessel did bound.
Lights flashing on, all boatsmen awake,
For a vessel’s in trouble make no mistake.
Quick to the site, the rescue boat sped.
Reach out with lines, assuage alls dread.
Destiny saved the danger averted,
If only they’d used a better anchor, SBO member blurted,
Tis way too late to be concerned.
Better to stop now. Before I get burned.
Credit for concept to Clement Clarke Moore
All rights reserved....
