“If
they were boys I wouldn’t have a moment’s hesitation,” he says, “but I’m not
sure girls will be able to handle the hardships.”
Well,
I don’t know these daughters of his, of course, but I can’t help thinking it’s
a bit old-fashioned to regard girls as lacking in the ability to handle crew
duties aboard yachts. What they might lack in brute strength they surely make
up for in ingenuity. You only have to be able to read to know that girls of 15
and 16 are sailing bigger yachts than his around the world on their own these
days.
Besides,
boys don’t always make ideal crews anyway. The last time I crossed an ocean with
a son, who was then 17 years old, I lost a lot of sleep worrying about him.
As
we were the only two watchkeepers, he had specific orders to call me if he
spotted another vessel at night. He had specific orders to call me if he
thought a sail change was necessary. He had specific orders to wear a harness
and tether when he was alone in the cockpit at night.
But
he was 17. He was becoming a man. He couldn’t help himself. Nature was pumping
testosterone through his tissues. He didn’t obey any of those orders. Although
he was color blind, he guided us through a fleet of fishing boats one dark
night way out in the South Atlantic while my wife and I slept below. I nearly
had a fit when I found out.
And
when we were running fast in the southeast trades I was woken up one night by
the thud of footsteps running forward along the cabintop. My untethered son was
jibing the foresail singlehanded, shifting the pole from one side to the other.
I lay awake, staring into the darkness, listening to the noises, waiting for
the thuds that would indicate he was returning to the safety of the cockpit.
But they never came. Had he gone overboard? I reasoned — I hoped — that he had
returned along the side deck. I wanted to get up and peek out of the
companionway hatch, but I didn’t want him to know that I had caught him in an
act of disobedience because that would have forced me to impose disciplinary
punishment or else lose my power of authority over him, such as it was. So I
lay there fretting for another half hour until it was time to go on watch and I
could decently make an appearance. And there he was, sitting in the cockpit,
neatly buckled up and looking the picture of innocence in the moonlight. I
could have bitten him. But I didn’t ask him why the jib pole was suddenly on
the other side.
I
don’t think a girl would have disobeyed her father/skipper like that. Girls
don’t have the same impulse to prove they’re macho.
Or
do they? Maybe now I’m the one who’s acting old-fashioned. Well, if I am, I
can’t help it. Old-fashioned is what I am. Like it or lump it. But my advice to
the would-be cruiser is simple: Go for it. Invest some trust in those daughters
of yours. I’m sure it will be amply repaid.
Today’s Thought
A man who trusts nobody is
apt to be the kind of man nobody trusts.
—
Harold Macmillan
Tailpiece
Did
you hear about the short-sighted moth who blundered into a 2-year-old’s
birthday party? He burned his end at both candles.
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