Part 1

The Boy, Me and the Cat

_Cruise of the Mascot, 1912-1913_

Henry M. Plummer

The Cyrus Chandler Company Rye, New Hampshire

Copyright 1961 by The Cyrus Chandler Company

_Fourth Printing, 1986_

Printed in the United States of America by Commonwealth Press, Worcester, Massachusetts

PUBLISHERS’ PROLOGUE

We first heard about _The Boy, Me and the Cat_ when asked if we had read it. When we said we hadn’t, our interrogator shook his head with pity, and then made the flat statement, “It is the greatest cruising story ever written.” As you can imagine, our curiosity was piqued and even more so as we began to dig into the matter.

We learned that the book was originally published by the author in a paper covered, fish-line bound, mimeographed edition of 700 copies. Where those 700 copies have all gone to no one seems to know. There are a few in the hands of a small group who prize them rather highly. As William Taylor, Managing Editor of _Yachting_ described it, “Borrowing one is about as simple as borrowing a man’s favorite wife.” We don’t know about that, inasmuch as we aren’t married and have yet to borrow a wife, but we do know that we had a terrible time trying to get a copy.

It soon appeared that the easiest way to read the book was to publish it, and so we set out. And that is the why of this second edition. Now that we have read it, we agree, this is the greatest cruising story ever written. We hope that you will think so, too.

In the meanwhile we would be neglecting all courtesy and obligation if we did not tell you that the credit for this second edition really belongs to David C. McIntosh, boat-builder, of Dover Point, New Hampshire, who started us on the trail of the Mascot; William Taylor of _Yachting_, who encouraged us with his enthusiasm; Oliver Prescott of New Bedford, who generously lent us his prized copy of the original; Waldo Howland of the Concordia Yacht Company, who counselled us; Maggie McIntosh of Smith College, who gave up her vacation to lovingly copy every dot and line of the drawings; Barbara Smith of Worcester, who has read and reread every word; Norman Wood of Commonwealth Press, whose constant advice and suggestions have done so much to design our book; Henry M. Plummer, Jr., who wrote his recollections for us in a hospital bed; and of course, the author, who once did it all by himself.

_The Publishers_

DEDICATION

To my companion, Henry M. Plummer, Jr., who, with unfailing patience bore with my fretful exactions, and was ever ready to lend a willing hand; who joined me in love for Scotty, and in grief at her death. To this boy who is my joy and my pride, the log is lovingly dedicated by his father.

PREFACE

(to First Edition)

_First Subscription Edition--Limited 700 Copies_

The stencil sheets from which this edition was printed have been destroyed by the author.

This cruise was undertaken on my part as rest for a set of frazzled nerves and tired eyes and to limber up a back slowly recovering from an oldtime injury. Henry and Scotty went just naturally cause they had to.

With the passing of the sailing ship much of the language of the sea will also pass away and so in writing this log I have used all the nautical terms I could think of and some I couldn’t think of.

I am indebted to Alice H. Plummer for pictorial conception of “Scotty” on the following pages and to A. M. Lofgren for her successful struggle with my language on a typewriter.

The delay in completing this home made, hand turned bit of mission furniture has been due to the constant quarrels between those engaged in its production. The author and editor came to blows over the gender of “mimi,” the illustrator claimed it impossible to give artistic expression to poetic thought by pecking a sheet of waxed paper with a meat skewer and as a climax to this fiasco the captain of the Mascot informed the publisher that he, together with all the subscription moneys, had left for some faraway land with which this country has no extradition treaty.

With many apologies for many faults and with a solemn promise to never do so any more, I sign myself for the last time

The Author The Illustrator The Editor The Publisher The Printer The Binder and The Captain of the Mascot.

[Signature of Henry M Plummer]

NOTE

The letters beside the page numbers refer to sketch maps at end of the book. Continuous line, southern course; broken line, northern course.

The Boy, Me and the Cat

[Illustration]

The Boy, Me and the Cat

_The Cruise of the Mascot_ October, 1912-June, 1913

All Hands and the Cook

Henry M. Plummer Henry M. Plummer, Jr. _and_ Scotty

[Sidenote: Map A.]

_New Bedford, Massachusetts, September 15, 1912._

The Mascot is an old-fashioned Cape Cod catboat 30 years old. Her dimensions are, length overall 24 ft. 6 in., waterline 23 ft., beam 10 ft., draught 3 ft. 6 in. With self-bailing cockpit she is as safe and able a little ship as a man could want to go to sea in. Cabin accommodations are comfortably ample for two men and include a small shipmate stove near gangway on port side, a well-filled bookcase forward on starboard side, two roomy transoms and plenty of storage room.

Today we hauled out on marine railway to paint and also had a 3-horsepower engine installed in our 15 ft. dory skiff. Mighty busy days settling up business matters and attending personally to every detail of outfitting for Henry is new to the game and can be of very little help at this time.

Was giving a man some help on a capstan when a post pulled out of the ground and a big block and chain snapped in, catching me on the leg and putting me out of commission and into bed for four, pretty uncomfortable days. Visions of weeks on my back with splintered leg bone were finally ended when, with a little sharp click, a misplaced tendon snapped back and I was soon hobbling about. Made a mental note never to try and help anyone again.

_October 10th-11th._ Made sail in afternoon and worked round to Padanaram where the next day we received visitors, drank luck and happy days to the boat, said good-bye, hoisted pennant of New Bedford Yacht Club, and in late afternoon slipped down river in very light airs.

_October 12th._ At 3 o’clock this morning with aid of little launch we towed across the bar and dropped anchor off my Potomska farm in the Pascamanset River which flows into Buzzards Bay between Meshaum Pt. and Barneys Joy just northerly from Cuttyhunk, the most westerly of the Elizabeth Islands.

_October 14th._ Mighty busy cup o’ tea this morning. Tumbled all the “last things” on board. Crawled under the shed, caught the cat, rubbed her full of flea powder, and dropped her into a gunny sack to moult. Will have troubles enough without fleas.

Good-bye to brave mother, and with a white apron waving from the cottage door, we slipped moorings and stood to sea with fair tide and light westerly breezes. Employed crew in ship’s duties and with sheets flattened in we made it a long and short leg passing inside of Hen and Chickens reef and so to quiet anchorage for the night at Sakonet.

_October 15th._ Turned out 5 o’clock. Sun rose very angry and glass falling. Wind strong at west. Double reefed and under way by 10. Wind slacked and left us rolling without headway. Had to put on whole sail to work off shore. Breeze began to freshen at once from S. W. Lots of coot and I tried my luck with the gun and knocked down one with each barrel for a long chance. We got one and so began living on the country. Breeze pricking on very fresh. Launch unshipped rudder and Henry had to jump on board and save it. This he did well and he shows great aptitude in everything. Breeze increasing and sea very heavy so dropping peak ran back to cove under west shore. Wind suddenly shifted and came out fresh gale N. W. Double reefed again and went out to look things over and test boat and rigging. Found a fearful sea on, into which we plunged at times to the mast. Our davits held all right. Kept jogging along and ran into Newport at 9:30 after a long, hard day. Took a heavy squall off Fort Adams and cut all kinds of pigeon wings with water flying and halliards, too. Thought we would surely sink the launch, but found only a few inches of water in her next morning.

_October 16th._ Lay at anchor all day. Did shopping, etc., etc. Made a fine corn pudding. Found the cow’s horn on our bowsprit end had been badly twisted in the blow of yesterday and got ready to mend same. Will here explain that I was carrying spinnaker pole, spears, harpoons and spare truck in general lashed, one end on small davits and forward end resting in an iron half hook or horn bolted on end of short plank bowsprit.

_October 17th._ Fine day with very strong breeze from S. W. Crew engaged in ordinary ship’s duties and mending bowsprit horn. Kitty doing fine. Not sick a bit. Tried to make her sleep in basket last night instead of on my neck and result is she has disappeared under transom and won’t come out at all today in spite of all hands calling Kitty! Kitty! and a nice plate of chowder waiting.

[Illustration: The Beaver Tail]

_October 18th._ Gale blew out in night and morning came bright, fair with nice breeze S. S. W. Up at 5 and under way with single reef by 9. Looked over the German cruiser _Victoria Louise_ and also one of our battleships. Then flattened in sheets for a long beat to Pt. Judith. Beautiful day with easy sea and crew engaged in ship’s duties and sewing launch fender. Some little hubble-bubble outside and coot stew slopped over on Scotty but did not scald her. Later while asleep in her basket the beans came flying to leeward. She heard them on their way and escaped from under by a flying leap to cockpit. Quite a day for Scotty. Henry had his first taste of coot stew while laid to off Narragansett Pier. He tucked away a good bit and held it down. Shook out our reef and ran into Pt. Judith Pond at 4 P. M. after a fine day to windward. Tied right up to the bank of the marsh just like alongside a dock. A fascinating place with great possibilities. Fisherman gave us a fresh mackerel for supper.

_October 19th._ Comes cloudy with freshening S. W. breeze. Owly looking weather. More mackerel from kind friend. Flock of tired geese came near giving us a shot. Off by 9 under single reef. Very crooked water and heavy ground swell. Drove along easily and made good weather. Crew engaged in cleaning and splitting mackerel on new fish board which works fine. Later salted mackerel down. This looks like living on the country. Slipped in behind inner breakwater at Stonington by 3:45 after a hard thrash against heavy seas and wind with threatening skies. Six days from home and only 60 miles away and every mile fought for.

Good supper of corn soup and hot biscuits. Henry delights me with sounds of contentment wrung from the jew’s-harp. Scotty is picking up heart and investigating the deck.

_October 20th._ Comes fresh, clear and cold N. W., an ideal day for getting on but as we only have to make New London we stayed quietly at anchor after good breakfast of fried clams and potatoes. Engaged in snugging up and finding things still lost since starting. Scotty beginning to play nicely. Lunched and slipped quietly away about 1 o’clock. Light airs but fair tide and a beautiful bright blue sky and sea, with shore of browns, greens and vivid reds. Four o’clock found us becalmed off mouth of the Thames so Henry started the bug and away we went 35 min. to the old anchorage off the coal pockets. Passed a familiar looking old packet on way up river. She was slowly beating in with only two men on board. She proved to be the schooner yacht _Ruth_ and indeed sadly fallen in estate since I sailed a Goelet race in her so many years ago. I wonder if I, too, look so done up.

_October 21st._ Comes beautifully bright with fine easterly breeze and we should have been moving. Gave up the day, however, to fitting cover to launch. It was a very busy but satisfactory day and ended with a fine hot bath on shore with beefsteak supper to follow.

_October 22nd._ Comes again beautiful with again that fresh breeze at E. S. E. We are both feeling effects of our hard preparatory work and strenuous days following, and so it is 10 o’clock before we are half down the river. Once out and away, we begin to bruise water in great shape. Finally hove to and rigged spinnaker in spite of quite a rolling sea. I hoisted it and with a cheer we broke it out to as fair and pretty a breeze as ever christened a new sail. And how we legged it then and when tide turned some more. For seven hours we never started sheets or halliards. Warmed by the kindest of suns, pulled by spinnaker and mainsail, pushed by whitecapped, sparkling waves and hurried by a sweeping tide, we ran by the beautiful Connecticut shores and drove into New Haven 50 miles from our start at 7 p.m. We were well tired, but we had covered as much ground in nine hours as had taken a week till then. We snugged up and sat down to two great bowls of tomato clam bisque which I had been at work on. Oh, it was good and we tucked a lot of it away and then rolled into our bunks for good long sleep, but did we get it? Nit.

_October 23rd._ Starts at 1 a.m. for mine and about 2 a.m. for Henry. Tomato clam bisques are not good in bulk for tired stomachs. Least said about this day the better. Our spirits went as low as the barometer which dropped 7/10 inch for a nasty S. E. gale which drove in a sea that kept us rolling all day at our anchor. Henry recovered promptly, but yours truly was in his bunk all day. I got lots of sleep, however, which I knew just what to do with. Night came with a storm and rain and roll and pitch, but I was better and slept well. For three miserable days we lay rolling scuppers to while the heavy southeaster drove the rain swishing across decks. My eyes gave out completely, and I spent most of my time clinging to my transom and renewing bandages.

_October 26th._ Up at 4 a.m. and after a “Jolly boy” which consists of a fried ship’s bread, and a mug of cocoa, we up anchor and started. No wind, but clearing skies. The beautiful hunter’s moon in the west and a glorious red sun popping out of the sea in the east. We took a strong westerly breeze outside breakwater and thought we were in for a good smash to windward. It soon all gave out and for the whole day we just worked flukes along the shore and anchored at 4 p.m. behind the Stratford breakwater with only a dozen little miles to our credit. We saw more ducks than I ever saw before. Literally by the thousand and by the acre. I was too afraid of game wardens to try the shotgun, but Helen Keller, the name we give to the 22 cal. with silencer, whispered close to a number but failed to touch meat. There were coot, white wings, whistlers, shell drake, skunk heads, and thousands of black duck. Night came beautifully. Calm and clear. The eye better and with a patch and blue glasses I was fairly comfortable.

[Illustration: Pulled by sail and swept by tide.]

_October 27th._ Turned out at 4 and under way at 4:30 in cold, snappy morning with fresh northerly breeze and Henry mighty glad to wrap my knit scarf round his neck. Caught the tide just at the turn and away we went with that glorious moon to the west and the old crimson sun popping up behind us. Eye turns out better, and I am less anxious about it. Think too much Pond’s Extract with its alcohol made much of the trouble. Alcohol has but one fit place and that internal. With started sheets we did bruise the water unmercifully hour after hour. The breeze freshened all the time and we were soon carting more canvas than was prudent so ran in under lee of a point and doused sail for a single reef. Here I distinguished myself by tying in two second reef points and tearing two nice holes in my new sail when we hoisted. Age will tell. Away again, and Henry shot a crippled coot which we got. At this time the chief engineer reported fire in the hold. The captain returned answer that he didn’t care a ... how much was in the hold if there was enough in the stove for breakfast so we let her burn. Sheet of asbestos not enough under stove and wood beneath was charring. Officers allayed the fears of the passengers, and crew were employed in ordinary ship’s duties which prevented panic. Off Stamford a Sunday fishing party of five men in a rowboat was sighted being blown out into the Sound. We responded to their frantic waves of distress. Made a sporting pickup and towed them in under the land to calm water. Then off and away again. The Sound narrowing up. Execution Rock in sight. Traffic increasing. Passed Execution Rock at noon, and entered the beginning of East River and caught the Western Hell Gate tide all right. Here the wind left us and we shook out reef and made slow going to the Gate where we boiled through on the rushing tide.

Hardly passed the Gate when all wind failed. We lost steerage way and being caught by a swirling back eddy went head on plump into a barge alongside the dock. Then we waltzed around a few times, took a little puff of wind and plumped bang into the barge again. Broke ends off our fish poles and smashed our fish grain pole, and as we were preparing for another dive at the barge and the boat completely out of control, I ordered Henry into the launch and with mother’s helper away we went fluke-o down the river. Henry touched the high places when the ferry boats kicked up the seas, but he stuck in and the little bug never missed a turn. So to Ellis Is. where Henry came on board, and as night shut down we found our way into the Erie Basin and tied up snug and quiet behind the big steam yacht _Aphrodite_. It was a long day well put in. I don’t think I ever had twelve hours of fair tide before. We made 60 statute, and about 54 nautical miles and that’s some going for a 24-foot boat. Scotty, who has been pretty peevish during the last few days, began picking up to-day, and shows signs of being a sailor after all. If Henry had any mind, he would make a dandy, for his appetite is good. My eye stood the long day well, and I turned in feeling that it was distinctly on the mend.

_October 28th._ Found us all snug in Erie Basin with warm sun to cheer the cockles of our hearts. I devoted the whole day to patching my torn sail. I took lots of time and care and hope to look at the two patches with pleasure for months to come. Henry took down the stove and put in more asbestos and made an air space with hope of averting another holocaust. Fred Hussey called at 4 p.m. and took Henry to Orange for the night and Scotty and I were left to keep ship alone. Finally I left Scotty and made my way up town for a good dinner. Back to the boat mighty early, for the surroundings of Erie Basin are not conducive of late saunterings. I bet they gave it the name Erie after nightfall. Great stretches of black water half covering blacker stretches of mud. A lonely, unlighted road leads across made land and marsh. Blast furnaces flare up unexpectedly. Trip-hammers pound on iron. Dogs follow and snarl at your heels. Hound’s Ditch, London, must have been like it. No, I don’t fancy the Erie Basin at night where the electric cars stop en route while driver and conductor get a drink in the neighboring bar and light up their cigarettes. Scotty greeted me on my return and was soon muzzling into some chicken hash which I brought back from my dinner. I have to order my meals according to what I think Scotty wants and not at all as I feel appetite for. When waiter isn’t looking I scoop a lot into a piece of paper and jam it into my pocket.

From October 28th to November 1st we lay in Erie Basin enjoying fine weather, and occupied every minute in fitting ship and making ready for the days and weeks to come. There is a raft of things to be done to insure comfortable living on a small boat, and it is always difficult to stick to completion of essentials first. I want to write a book and call it the “Magnification of the Non-essential.” I wonder if I thought that title up myself or cribbed it somewhere. Henry worked hard and well, is making a good shipmate and seems to have a sailor’s heart in him. When we go to town from here we pass the India Docks where Henry’s grandfather Morgan fitted out his clipper ships for the adventures of the sea.

[Illustration: Residential Section Erie Basin.]