The fog set in like a squatter on the land. Only thing is, we were on the water. I was with Dad aboard the " Montauk " a fine wooden vessel of 1930's vintage. That old Grey Marine engine was just chugging along making headway against a gentle sea. We had just rounded Gardiners Island out in the bay and headed for three mile. On a clear day you can easily see across that bay and the landmarks are clear. The long stone jetty juts out into the bay and leads you into the " gut ", the passage to safe harbor But not on this day, that fog was as thick as a wool blanket. We had lit the running lights, although they would be of little use. The job of ringing the bell fell to me, the first mate. Dad told me he was captain and I needed to obey his orders ! This was serious business, this cutting through the fog. It is a dangerous undertaking but must be done. Sure, we could just drop anchor and wait it out but Mom would be worried if we didn't return. And we didn't have any supplies onboard. No, we had best head to port. I was stationed at the ship's bell and told to strike it , just once, every two minutes. The Montauk was not equipped with a horn.
There was a chill in the air as it was early on in the fall, that's why the fog had formed, warm water and colder air. Happens all the time and can go away just as quickly as it arrives. This fog surrounded us like a shroud and brought with it silence. Fog also acts as a muffler and sound doesn't travel well. I struck that bell firmly, only once and waited. I could hear our engine churning that prop through the water. There was a slapping sound where the bow broke the gentle waves. We rose and fell with the swells due to our slow progress, and we listened. We heard no other sounds, bell or horn, and that was a comfort. There was no radio aboard to talk with other vessels, our bell was our voice.
As dad, the captain kept his eye on the compass, I tried to pierce that fog with my eyes. I could see nothing beyond a few feet. We should be hearing the bell buoy soon. I knew that distinctive sound and strained to hear it. That bell buoy marked the entrance to the channel. The channel meant home and safe harbor. It seemed like hours passed before I did hear that sound. I alerted the captain, bell buoy ahead, off the port bow, I think ! Judging the location of a sound in a fog bank takes years of practice, years I didn't have. The captain cut the engine briefly and listened, yes there it is, and adjusted our course.
The sound of that bell buoy grew a little louder.What a welcoming sound to my ears. This navigating in the fog is nerve racking ! Then a stiff breeze began to blow and that fog began to retreat. It was almost as though it was in retreat from the bow of the Montauk. That proud old boat had been in fog before and knew her way home. Before I knew it that bell buoy passed off the starboard side and we entered the channel. We saw no other boats and so just steamed on in. When we entered the harbor and swung her about to back into the berth I heard a gull cry. I think he was welcoming us home. And there, on the dock stood Mom, hailing us. She had heard a fog had set in and was concerned. No need to worry Mom, I had the bell and Dad had the helm, we could've sailed through anything !
And that is how I remember that voyage back in '68. We went fishing Dad and I. We talked of the water and how things were in the old days. I mostly listened, that was the role of a kid back then. Seen but not heard ! I'll always remember that trip because I have reminders. I have the bowlight and the bell from the Montauk. The bowlight sits above my desk, always lighted and the bell is in the attic. I may mount that bell one day and display it close by the bowlight. Haven't so far because of the grandkids. They would want to ring it all the time, you know how kids are. It's not foggy in here ! But they are grown now, not that that would help much. Well, one day I just might do that.
There was a chill in the air as it was early on in the fall, that's why the fog had formed, warm water and colder air. Happens all the time and can go away just as quickly as it arrives. This fog surrounded us like a shroud and brought with it silence. Fog also acts as a muffler and sound doesn't travel well. I struck that bell firmly, only once and waited. I could hear our engine churning that prop through the water. There was a slapping sound where the bow broke the gentle waves. We rose and fell with the swells due to our slow progress, and we listened. We heard no other sounds, bell or horn, and that was a comfort. There was no radio aboard to talk with other vessels, our bell was our voice.
As dad, the captain kept his eye on the compass, I tried to pierce that fog with my eyes. I could see nothing beyond a few feet. We should be hearing the bell buoy soon. I knew that distinctive sound and strained to hear it. That bell buoy marked the entrance to the channel. The channel meant home and safe harbor. It seemed like hours passed before I did hear that sound. I alerted the captain, bell buoy ahead, off the port bow, I think ! Judging the location of a sound in a fog bank takes years of practice, years I didn't have. The captain cut the engine briefly and listened, yes there it is, and adjusted our course.
The sound of that bell buoy grew a little louder.What a welcoming sound to my ears. This navigating in the fog is nerve racking ! Then a stiff breeze began to blow and that fog began to retreat. It was almost as though it was in retreat from the bow of the Montauk. That proud old boat had been in fog before and knew her way home. Before I knew it that bell buoy passed off the starboard side and we entered the channel. We saw no other boats and so just steamed on in. When we entered the harbor and swung her about to back into the berth I heard a gull cry. I think he was welcoming us home. And there, on the dock stood Mom, hailing us. She had heard a fog had set in and was concerned. No need to worry Mom, I had the bell and Dad had the helm, we could've sailed through anything !
And that is how I remember that voyage back in '68. We went fishing Dad and I. We talked of the water and how things were in the old days. I mostly listened, that was the role of a kid back then. Seen but not heard ! I'll always remember that trip because I have reminders. I have the bowlight and the bell from the Montauk. The bowlight sits above my desk, always lighted and the bell is in the attic. I may mount that bell one day and display it close by the bowlight. Haven't so far because of the grandkids. They would want to ring it all the time, you know how kids are. It's not foggy in here ! But they are grown now, not that that would help much. Well, one day I just might do that.
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