I don’t know when I first fell in love with sailing ships. Maybe it was the sight of Peter
Pan flying off to Neverland in the Disney version of the story. Maybe it was the adventure in Rafael
Sabatini’s Captain Blood or Frank
Yerby’s The Golden Hawk. I was
already far, far gone by the time the Black Pearl and the Interceptor sailed
onto the scene. I’ve watched the parade of ships in Commencement Bay, toured
the Constitution and Eagle in port, and crouched aboard the Hawaiian Chieftain
while her cannons puffed smoke. But last
Friday, I fulfilled a dream I’ve had since 1989, when the Lady Washington was
launched.
I spent 8 hours aboard our state’s tall ship.
Eight passengers shivered in the early morning light at the
dock. We were given the choice to sail
on either ship. But when the others saw
that the only way aboard the Lady was a rope ladder hanging down her side (she
was berthed in such a way she could not lower her gangplank), they opted for
the more civilized stairs leading to the Chieftain. Thus, I had the Lady, and her crew, all to
myself. Because that ladder was not
going to stand between me and my dream, however, ungainly I might have appeared
going up it!
We set out from the port and headed upriver. The sails were all furled, and we were
running on the Lady’s engine, but that didn’t mean the crew got to relax. Our first challenge in making it to Pasco lay
in the locks of McNary Dam. The crew
heaved on the ropes, canting the yards on the fore and main masts to bring them
within the line of the ship’s hull. That
way, they couldn’t be damaged when we navigated the locks, which looked a bit
like the gates of Mordor as we approached.
As we pulled into the black channel, the Chieftain right
behind us, we could see people high on the walls. Some of the employees of the dam had brought
their children with them, and they waved pirate flags at us while their parents
snapped pictures. It’s not every day a
sailing ship comes to town.
Once through the locks, it was clear sailing for a time,
past the dusty hills and black basalt that makes up much of this part of Washington. Up into the rigging
scrambled the crew, to hang high over my head as they unfurled the sails. And out bellied the white from the
yards. It was an inspiring sight in the
warm summer air on the peaceful river.
But I kept thinking how much harder it would have been in a driving rain
on the Pacific!
At one point, the Chieftain cruised past us. She has two engines to the Lady’s one; her
foremast is a cleverly disguised smokestack.
The crew wanted to pelt her with pancakes left over from breakfast (no
lie!). They had the slingshot rigged and
were taking aim, but the captain denied them permission to fire. There were lady passengers on the other ship,
after all.
I was surprised and not a little pleased to find that of the
12 members of the crew, 7 were women, including the first mate, bosun, gunner’s
mate, and purser. I was also surprised
to see so much rope! Madam Bosun told me
that Lady has over 6 miles of the stuff to manage her sails and hold her fast. Then there’s the helm, only there’s no
wheel. The Lady is steered by
tiller. When you see a wheel on her in
the movies, it’s been put on for show.
We continued on north, the crew working at sanding and
oiling woodwork such as belaying pins while I quizzed them unmercifully. But it soon became apparent by the tight
countenances of the captain and first mate that all was not right. When the Lady Washington first sailed to
Pasco 4 years ago, the crew discovered that the information they had on a
railroad bridge near the town of Finley was incorrect. The Lady could, in fact, not pass under her
without removing about the top 10 feet of her mast. You can imagine that was not an easy feat in
the middle of the river. Taking
precautions, they had already removed the upper mast at a port downriver. But information now indicated that the river
was running high, and the bridge might be lower than expected. It was, in fact, quite possible we wouldn’t
fit, and we didn’t have any more mast to remove!
The engineer and a sailor ventured into the rigging to take
measurements, and based on the information we’d been given, we either had 5
feet of clearance, or we would take off the top 2 feet of mast if we tried to
go under! We approached, once more on engine
power and going very slowly. The iron
bridge, black with rust from years of use, stood in stark contrast to the
graceful lines of the ship.
The captain wanted to know exactly how much clearance he
had, if any. So the engineer climbed to
the very top of the rigging and hung there with a long rod in his hand, with
orders to poke the bridge as we passed under it and get a measurement of the
difference.
“Report!” the captain called up as we inched forward.
“I think we’ll make it,” the engineer replied.
“100%?”
Silence for a moment.
Then, “Yes.”
The engine purred.
And we were through with 5 feet to spare. Phew!
We arrived in Pasco as planned. All in all, it was an amazing adventure, and
I have so much admiration for those who give up their lives to sail. The bosun told me the ship is her home. Her 12 square feet of bunk space and trunk is
all the property she owns in the world.
All she wants is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.
