by Charles Sousa

Created on: May 06, 2008

21 Days Out of Boston

The 40 foot yacht, Sir Robert L' was 21 days out of Boston Harbor. The weather for the past 30 days was as perfect as it could get for a trip down east along the Maine coast. Temperatures in the mid-eighties, gentle to calm southwest breezes moving across a flat turquoise sea; the clouds were all in other latitudes. Little did the crew of the Sir Robert' realize that there was an unpredicted weather change coming.

The crew had been up since 0330 hr., called to breakfast by the first officer at 0400 hr. By the time the meal ended, the sun was making its entrance over the edge of the eastern horizon. The coming of the morning sun was a ritual not to be missed by the crew, as was customary it was the youngest who led the exodus from the galley table, the rest of the crew followed according to age. For the past three weeks they had not missed a sunrise. Preston, 10 years old, was in front followed by his brother Jay, age 11, and their sister Darby, age 13. The rule had always been the same, the oldest followed the next younger, you were always responsible for the kid in front of you, most of all on the boat. There were four more crew members at home, 19 years and up, as they put it to their parents they did their time on the rock so they were not among the crew this trip. Darby was able to be the boson now.

The mascot, a 125 lb. German Shepherd named Caesar, who could not turn around on the narrow deck that surrounded the cabin would generally go first, head for the bow where he could turn around, wait for the crew to select their seats then he would hop up on the trunk and sit with them. He seemed as intent in the sun coming up as were the crew.

Charlie and Barb, their parents, watched the ritual as they had every day for the past 21 days. This day was a bit different; they were on the open ocean for this sunrise, not at dockside as they usually were at this hour in the morning. Today was to be the last day of their 21-day voyage; the next scheduled port of call would be Boston Harbor.

The sunrise that morning contradicted the weather forecast, it was, to say the least, spectacular. They had not seen one like it in 30 days, brilliant reds and orange hues gently painted the morning clouds and surrounding haze which extended to the surface of the distant sea. There is a certainty about the sea; you can always expect the unexpected.

A mile or so off the port beam, a plume of spray arose, with one voice the crew shouted "there she blows." The crew

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