Tidewater Times May 2023

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About the Cover Artist Erick Sahler

Red, right, return.

For generations, the Tred Avon’s Red 2 buoy has welcomed sailors to Oxford, Maryland. Now it’s subject of “R2,” a new print in Erick Sahler’s “My Hometown Series” collection.

Bobbing 200 yards off the Tred Avon Yacht Club, nautical charts call it Red Buoy No. 2.

To Oxford boaters, it is Red 2 ~ or R2 for short ~ and it marks the entry to the oldest port on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. Landlubbers can view R2 from the public beach at the end of Lovers Lane, tucked between the yacht club and the Sandaway inn, which are both featured in the print.

Red 2 is as much an Oxford institution as the mustard yellow exterior of the Robert Morris Inn, or the town’s onion dome picket fences, and Sahler believed it deserved a tribute. The print debuted at the Treasure Chest in April as part the 2023 Oxford Day celebration. It is Sahler’s 10th Oxford-themed print.

Sahler is a Salisbury, Maryland, native. He learned his craft as a teenager, apprenticing for a Salisbury screen printer and studying with Chesapeake Bay maritime painter C. Keith Whitelock. Sahler graduated from the University of

Maryland Baltimore County with a bachelor’s degree in visual arts. He has created artwork for clients across the Eastern Shore since 1983. In 2015, he was elected to the Society of Illustrators in New York. You can find his work in shops across Delmarva. For a list of sellers or to order online, go to www. ericksahler.com .

Bucket List Revisited

by Helen Chappell

What’s on your bucket list?

You probably know that the term “bucket list” was inspired by a 2007 film of the same name that starred Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. When both are diagnosed with terminal illnesses, the characters played by Freeman and Nicholson escape their hospital/ nursing home, taking off to live out as many of their life fantasy events as they can cram in before it’s too late. It’s a wonderful movie, and if you haven’t seen it, you

really should. They want to have as much living as they can before they kick the bucket.

And you really should try to check as many items as you can off your own bucket list. I know I’ve done a lot, and there’s still a lot to do, although whether it gets experienced is moot at this point in time.

Recently, my former editor and great friend Hugh Bailey, erstwhile editor and publisher of Tidewater Times , went to join

his beloved wife, Evelyn, on what I hope is an eternity of adventure and travel of the sort they richly enjoyed on Earth. Somewhere, they’re riding their motorcycles and living in their RV in some glorious landscape we can only imag-

ine here. Hugh departed having achieved a fair share of his bucket list. Inspired by him, I’m reviewing mine.

What have I done, and what do I want to do before I kick the bucket? Since you’ve read this far, I’m going to go ahead and tell you about some of my life goal adventures, like the elderly lady who wants to give you an organ recital of all her aches and pains, bowel movements and doctor’s visits. NOT giving people organ recitals is on my bucket list. Mostly, I’ve been able to accomplish that, but not before catching myself mid-ache.

I’ve managed to have some great experiences and lived out a number of fantasies and goals.

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They may not be your idea of a good time, but I enjoyed them. A major accomplishment was actually going to New Orleans to Mardi Gras. When I was in art school, I had a friend at Tulane who very generously hosted me. The city of New Orleans continues to be one of the great loves of my life. Anyone can go to Mardi Gras and experience the parades, the music, the costumes, the wading through a river of beer in the streets of the French Quarter, catching beads flung from a parade float and staying buzzed for a week, but I got to go to some of the Krewe parties and actually ride a streetcar named Desire .

Anyone can eat beignets and drink espresso at Café du Monde, but how many people get to go to an all-drag Krewe party on the Esplanade? Or meet Ry Cooder, though not at the same event. Red

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beans and rice, visiting the tomb of the great voodoo priestess Marie Laveau? A once-in-a-lifetime experience. Happily, I was young

then. These days, I’d be asleep by nine. But if you ever get to go to New Orleans, do. It’s a fantastic city.

Bucket List Revisited

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London is also a fantastic city, and another place I could happily live. Two of my favorite memories involve walking miles in the rain to get to Foyle’s Bookshop, the largest vendor in the world, where I spent days wandering through the stacks, spending all my traveler’s checks on wonderful books you wouldn’t see in the States, then spending the rest of my money shipping those books back home.

Another is a solo business trip I made to see my British publishers, staying in a cozy ultra-British hotel a block from Harrod’s. I got a Harrod’s charge card and was appropriately starstruck by lunch with the illustrator Ralph Steadman. I love London, but getting to go to Bath and inhale the essence of Jane Austen was a major treat. I’ve always felt comfortable in the UK and Ireland, perhaps because I read so much English literature as a bored teenager and fell in love with the Regency novels of 410-770-4374

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Bucket List Revisited

Georgette Heyer, whose work I would shamelessly imitate to keep the pot boiling when my more literary efforts failed to chart on the NYT Bestseller lists.

friends with most of my friends from that era. The White Mountains attract skiers and UFO buffs. They say there are nests of aliens living up there, and I know some people who swore they saw those aliens from outer space. But, as I said, it was the ’60s. And it was the first time I really felt accepted by a peer group.

One of my other goals was to escape the dreary, provincial and bigoted small town where I grew up as an outlier. I found my own people at Franconia College, a small freeform school in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Based on the same format as Black Mountain and Goddard, this tiny college was housed in a former resort hotel. I not only found my people; I found my vocation as a writer and an artist. The White Mountains were beautiful. It snowed from October until April, so a student body of about 150 people and maybe 25 faculty really got down with our cabin fever. Also, if you can remember the ’60s, you probably weren’t there, but it was fun and I am still

When I graduated, I checked another item off my bucket list by moving to New York. Back then, it was dirty and graffiti ridden, and I loved it. I worked part time for my literary agent learning the publishing ropes and enrolled in the School of Visual Arts, where I learned art is anything you can get away with. I could brag about some of the famous and infamous writers and artists I met, but that would be off the bucket list and into bragging.

But there I was in New York! The Big Apple! The lights! The culture! The crippling expense, the crowded streets. I lived in a loft downtown with a guy who became

Bucket List Revisited

a well-known painter and a thousand cockroaches. New York has so many roaches even Jackie O had them in her place across from the Met.

I had a brief brush with greatness when I freelanced for a rock magazine that wasn’t Rolling Stone . I had friends in bands that toured in the city, and I got invited to clubs and parties. Having a notebook and no looks, I never made it to groupie fame, but to my mind, a byline is better than an STD. And I did get to sit around drinking vodka with David Bowie while we talked about science fiction for about fifteen minutes before he was snatched away by More Important People.

When I made my first big book advance, the artist and I had a major falling out and I decided I needed to move back to the Eastern Shore. It was on my bucket list to stay a year, finish the novel, become a bestseller and move back to the city.

Well, it’s been forty-some years, and I’m still here. I’m done roaming. I’m not young anymore. A fractured spine earned me a twomonth sentence of neglect and pain at a local nursing home, which was NOT on my bucket list but taught me a good lesson about doing it while you still can, because life can hand you a totally different bucket list.

Now I feel like a retired pirate, come home from sea of pillaging and plundering. But these adventures and so many more have made up a bucket list worth having. And anything to come is just a new bucket.

Helen Chappell is the creator of the Sam and Hollis mystery series and the Oysterback stories, as well as The Chesapeake Book of the Dead . Under her pen names, Rebecca Baldwin and Caroline Brooks, she has published a number of historical novels.

The Eagles and the Shad

by Bonna L. Nelson

The Eagle has landed. ~ Neil Armstrong

During a colder-than-usual winter a year or so ago, a sudden snowstorm blanketed our cove, Jacks by name. Water in the cove froze quickly. Jacks was iced in, except for a foot or so along the shoreline where the cold water met the warmer land.

We admired the beauty of the newly painted forest along the shore and the grass brushed in crystallized white from our home in Easton on the Eastern Shore of

Maryland. Both bare tree limbs and delicate pine needles were frosted and crisp. Brilliant red cardinals decorated the bird feeders. The cold brought hunger.

In the midst of our enjoying the peace, calm and beauty delivered by the snowstorm, our cell phones came alive, buzzing email and text message notifications. “What in the world?” we said.

The alarm bells were ringing due to messages from neighbors with

Eagles and Shad

stories about fish and birds. Shad and eagles, to be exact. Apparently, the cold spell had caught gizzard shad by surprise in the Tred Avon River and its tributaries.

Schools of shad are not usually seen in our waters. Well, we had never seen them. The shads’ wandering became their doom. They circled the shoreline edges, swimming lethargically. Some floated to the top of the water with glazed eyes. Shad, never to be seen swimming again, became not hunters of plankton, but hunted themselves. A natural end to their life cycle.

Soon, photographs were being sent via text and email from one side

of the neighborhood to the other. It must have been a weekend, or we all would not have been lazing around looking out the windows, coffee or hot chocolate in hand.

What were the photos of? Well, not the shad. I took those photos later. No, the photos from our neighbors on the Tred Avon side of our community were of the majestic birds who decided that the post-snowstorm

Eagles and Shad

shad kill was an opportunity to take in calories prior to mating season.

Soon, we saw it, too. We had more visitors on our cove. Graceful in flight. Majestic in stature. The great American bald eagle swooped in, with all seven feet of wingspan enabling them to leisurely scan the cove like spy drones.

Our nation’s symbol first settled on high tree branches. Then they took a few more slow, spiraling drone-like passes before dropping down to lower branches. They liked what they saw.

The birds of prey determined that the coast was clear. They had no fear. The eagles ventured onto the edges of the headlands marshes and

our shorelines of mud and grasses, where they easily found their picnic entrée: gizzard shad.

More and more of the white-headed, yellow-billed noble birds of prey soared into the creek for the feeding frenzy. We have had and continue to have the occasional eagle pair occupy some of our taller pine trees or swoop in for a fish or two, but this was above and beyond anything we had seen in the 17 or so years of our residency on the nature-sharing Cove.

Eagles and Shad

Moms and dads, matching in coloring, let their rambunctious kids, mostly brown with blotchy white underwings, know to wait their turn, as most moms and dads do. Moms and dads seemed determined to get their fill first.

What a thrill to watch. The interactions of eagle families dining on a replenishing picnic of gizzard shad. Eagles also exhibit the same dining practices where salmon migrate and spawn.

My husband, John, not one to sit idly by, decided that he wanted to see even more drama and action. He donned winter weather gear and selected some equipment with which to shop for more food to contribute to the eagles’ feast. He also wanted to help me capture some photos of the spectacular event, which I did.

With crab net in hand, John scooped up floating shad from the water’s edge and flung them out onto the ice in front of our boat pier. Providing more delicacies for the picnic caused a feeding frenzy.

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Eagles and Shad

Numerous eagle families fought off newly arriving vultures. This show went on for days, with John tossing out fresh catch every morning. Eagles roosted in pine trees and pranced on the ice to tear into an easy meal. Vultures occupied every branch of a neighbor’s tall pine tree waiting for a chance to feast.

As I enjoyed a feast for the eyes, my curiosity took hold. I had to learn more about the shad and eagles. Online searches provided some answers to my questions.

The American gizzard shad, also known as mud shad, are primarily found in large rivers, reservoirs, lakes, swamps and other fresh and brackish water environments. The

species is a member of the herring family of fish and is named gizzard for its muscular, gizzard-like stomach that is, coincidentally, similar to the bald eagle’s stomach. The shad’s optimal habitat is warm, fertile, shallow bodies of water with soft mud bottoms.

It makes sense to me that they were attracted to Jacks Cove and nearby tributaries, as they are shallow, mud bottomed and fertile. But why did they roam up here in the winter? It is still a mystery, and we have not seen them again.

They do not feed on other fish but on plankton, phytoplankton and zooplankton. They also like to feed on plant debris, algae and detritus found in bottom sediments. They strain the particles with their gills.

So, they were not following bait fish. Perhaps they were having a plankton feeding frenzy and lost track of the weather and temperature? I read that shad die-offs are common in winter.

In case you were wondering…they weren’t engaged in hanky-panky or spawning at the headwaters of the Tred Avon like salmon spawn in

other headwaters. No, shad spawn in late spring.

Perhaps some game fish chased the shad upriver, as one of our neighbors speculated. I learned that more than 17 game fish feed on gizzard shad, though our gizzard shad did not suffer that fate. They were devoured by the majestic bald eagle, our national bird and a symbol of strength and freedom in America. A more noble ending?

The shad die-off went on for a few weeks, and more eagles showed up every day. Mature and immature eagles competed for the shad buffet. Vultures as well as raccoons and foxes had to be satisfied with the scraps.

Reading a bit about bald eagles, I

Eagles and Shad

graceful bird of prey easy to spot when they glide across the sky. The bird averages 31–37 inches in length with a wingspan averaging 6–7 feet.

The emblem bird of the United States enjoys coasts, rivers, lakes and reservoirs where food consisting of fish (dead or alive), turtles, shellfish, birds, mammals and carrion is abundant. The eagle hunts by watching for prey from a high perch. The predator then swoops down to catch its meal by surprise in its talons. It also hunts by cruising very low over land or sea and by wading into shallow water like herons to pursue a meal.

found some positive news. In 2020, 3,000 breeding pairs of bald eagles were estimated to be in the Chesapeake Bay region, up from 1,000 pairs in 2016 and a mere 60 breeding pairs in the 1970s! The numbers have soared back since the ban on the use of the chemical DDT and the illegal shooting of the birds.

Better wildlife management practices such as active management of eagle habitat have also contributed to the soaring numbers of eagles in the Bay area. Now our region has become home to one of the nation’s highest concentrations of these iconic birds, according to the Chesapeake Bay Program website.

The bald eagle’s white head and tail and huge yellow bill make the

Many eagles mate for life, which might explain the pair that we see regularly in our cove. Males and females are the same in appearance. They breed at 4–5 years of age. You can’t miss seeing their large nests, measuring 4 to 6 feet in diameter, in tall trees, sometimes 180 or more feet above the ground. Both mates build the nest of mounding sticks and line it with finer material. They may use the same nest for years, making it larger and larger.

Eagles and Shad and nest at a certain grove of very tall loblolly pines on the left side of Wildlife Drive.

One to three eggs are laid, and mom and dad both incubate the eggs for 34–36 days. At least one parent stays at the nest after hatching for the first two weeks. Mom and Dad both bring prey to the nest and tear it into small pieces for the eaglets. After 3–6 weeks, the babes pick at food dropped into the nest by the parents.

Apparently, some eagles live in the Bay region year-round, some head south at certain times of the year and some head north. If eagles are not visiting your backyard, there are viewing opportunities in areas around the Chesapeake. We are fond of visiting Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge (BNWR), an area of more than 30,000 acres, to see eagles as well as waterfowl, songbirds and other treasures of nature.

Eagles are a big draw at BNWR, located on the Eastern Shore near Cambridge, Md. BNWR even hosts an annual Eagle Festival, usually in March. Then and throughout the year, guides take visitors on tours of the park to see resident and migratory birds.

You can also drive in your own car via the BNWR’s 4.5-mile-long Wildlife Drive to see eagles, hawks, owls, geese, ducks, herons, egrets. pelicans, marsh birds, shorebirds and songbirds in the forests, marshes, wetlands, impoundments, rivers and ponds. Eagles are known to roost

We have been lucky to spot a few eagles there, both bald and golden, over the years. The BNWR says that the area around the refuge has one of the largest concentrations of nesting bald eagles on the Atlantic coast outside of Florida.

From October to December, bald eagle numbers increase with the arrival of migrant eagles from the north, according to BNWR literature. It is nest building time. By February, most pairs of bald eagles have eggs in their nests. They begin to hatch in March, grow quickly in April and start to fledge in May.

The delightful, informative BNWR Visitor Center features exhibits, dioramas with eagle mounts, a library, gift shop, bookstore and gardens. Best of all, there is an observation area with telescopes on the second floor from which you might see the abundant refuge wildlife.

Another great option for eagle

TIDE TABLE OXFORD, MD MAY 2023

SHARP’S IS. LIGHT: 46 minutes before Oxford

TILGHMAN: Dogwood Harbor same as Oxford

EASTON POINT: 5 minutes after Oxford

CAMBRIDGE: 10 minutes after Oxford

CLAIBORNE: 25 minutes after Oxford

ST. MICHAELS MILES R.: 47 min. after Oxford

WYE LANDING: 1 hr. after Oxford

ANNAPOLIS: 1 hr., 29 min. after Oxford

KENT NARROWS: 1 hr., 29 min. after Oxford

CENTREVILLE LANDING: 2 hrs. after Oxford

CHESTERTOWN: 3 hrs., 44 min. after Oxford

Eagles and Shad

watching is to visit the BNWR website ( fws.gov/refuge/Blackwater) or take the easy out and just Google BNWR. Why? They have eagle cams! You can watch the eagles in action with cameras focused on their nests from the comfort of your sofa or recliner. Very cool. Be aware that sometimes owls take over the nests, but they are fascinating to watch, too!

As the weather warmed, the frozen Jacks Cove thawed. The remaining expired gizzard shad were released from the ice and washed up onto the marsh and shoreline. The eagles continued to feast, but the feasting slowed as all the shad

were eaten. As the shad decreased in number, so did the eagles. They were off to greener pastures or fishier waters, I guess.

We have not had a repeat of that amazing eagle/shad phenomenon. But we take joy in the occasional visit of eagle pairs in Jacks Cove, our occasional visits to BNWR for eagle sightings and our occasional recliner/eagle cam meetups online.

Bonna L. Nelson is a Bay-area writer, columnist, photographer and world traveler. She resides in Easton with her husband, John.

Foundations, Faith, Family & Friends Butch and Sharon Slaughter

by Michael Valliant

Butch and Sharon Slaughter met over burnt pizza. Sharon worked at the Tastee-Freez in Denton and had a pizza she couldn’t sell, so she invited Butch to eat it with her. Butch knew from the first time he saw her; Sharon was who he would marry (their first meal together being free didn’t hurt). Almost fifty-nine years, two children, six grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, a masonry business and traveling to all 50 states together later, the Slaughters continue to live an abundant life full of faith, family and friends.

Butch grew up in Denton and Sharon outside Greensboro, and they were married right after Sharon graduated from high school. They spent $80 on their honeymoon, traveling to St. Petersburg, Florida, to stay with Butch’s aunt and uncle, sleeping in twin beds. They had a great time, went fishing, and Sharon caught the biggest fish.

“When we got married, we made an agreement that if we couldn’t afford it, we wouldn’t buy it,” Sharon said.

“The only thing we’ve ever had a

payment on was the first house we bought, which was $61 a month,” Butch added.

That house was on Second Street in Denton, across the street from Butch’s parents. They paid $4,500 for it and renovated it themselves as they had the money. Their two children, Allen and Holly, were born there and grew up surrounded by family, going across the street for family dinners on Wednesday nights, which also included Butch’s older sister, Lois, her husband, Merv, and their daughter, Dawn.

In the early years of their marriage, Butch worked for Acme Markets. When they transferred him from Denton to their St. Michaels

store, he had to make a decision. His schedule kept him from spending time with their kids ~ Allen was playing Little League baseball, and Butch didn’t even have time to play catch. He also had to miss Sunday family time.

For the Slaughters, faith and church were foundational in raising their kids and in making friends. Sharon taught Sunday school, and at St. Luke’s Methodist Church in Denton, they had a youth group with 40 kids in it. Every Sunday night they had Methodist Youth Fellowship and families would get together and go on trips ~ Butch still has pictures from those retreats on his bulletin board.

Through church, Butch met Dave Smith, who had become a friend and was part of a family masonry company.

“Dave told me if I ever quit my job to give him a call. So I quit Acme. I told Sharon, and then I called Dave,” Butch said. “The day I left, my boss at Acme told me he wished he was coming with me.”

Faith, Family & Friends

Butch started working for Dave’s father doing restoration work in Annapolis. In changing jobs, he took a pay cut and lost his health benefits, but he had a sense in learning a trade that he’d have more opportunities. Once Holly was in kindergarten, Sharon went to work part-time for Acme in Centreville, which gave their family health benefits.

Working across the Bay Bridge on historic buildings in Annapolis, Butch learned from some amazing “mechanics” ~ a term for masons who were precise and efficient at their jobs. After three years of

Butch going to the western shore, Dave opened his own business out of Denton and Butch went to work for him. Then one January, things got slow for Dave. He only had a couple employees.

“I had a few smaller jobs on the side, and the contractors I was working with encouraged me to go into business on my own,” Butch said. “I was 30 years old with two kids.”

As a family, they lived within their means.

“We didn’t go out to eat and nothing was fancy, but we were happy,” Sharon said. “The kids didn’t know we didn’t have things. The things that counted, they had.”

Butch, Sharon, and Dave Smith last summer in Alaska. They RV’d across the country, through Canada, to Alaska and back.

As Butch’s masonry business grew, he made the decision to stay small, doing jobs with himself and just a few employees. He and Dave Smith worked cooperatively, helping each other out, with Dave’s company gearing up for larger jobs. And Butch started doing work for landscape architects, primarily Jan Kirsh.

Faith, Family & Friends

“Jan taught me a lot ~ not just about stone patios or brick sidewalks, but how to think artistically about projects,” Butch said. “I’ve been able to carry that into other things, like carving.”

Carving birds was a hobby and a passion Butch began in his early 20s. He would go to shows and talk to experienced carvers. And it became a release for him after he came home after work.

“He’d come home and put a sheet down in the middle of the living room and sit at a card table and whittle,” Sharon said. “And the kids would walk across the sheet and track sawdust up the stairs and through the house.”

When he finally moved his carving into a shop, he would give lessons and go to shows and sell his birds. He’s shown his work at the Waterfowl Festival, the Ward Museum and in Ocean City, winning awards all along the way, includ-

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Faith, Family & Friends

ing at the Ward World Competition, among nine countries and 750 competitors. Butch has taken home nine first-place ribbons. In his first few years at the show, he won world champion in the novice division and later in the intermediate division. He makes a point to learn something at every show he attends.

After living in their Second Street house for 20 years, Butch and Sharon were able to buy a lot on the water in 1986, where they built a house and have lived ever since. True to form, they carved out a 24’ x 24’ space in the garage and lived there with Holly (Allen was away at college) while they built

the house. Butch was able to take jobs around working on the house, and with the help of contractor friends, they built their house in nine months.

As their kids left home, Butch and Sharon began to travel more. They’ve owned campers of varying sizes and have driven to every state in the continental United States. For their 50th wedding anniversary, they went to Hawaii, the only state they hadn’t been to. Alaska and Idaho remain favorite destinations. They have an off-the-beatenpath approach to traveling.

“We like to go to where the home folks go rather than the chain restaurants,” Butch said. “Small towns always have a place where the lo-

Faith, Family & Friends

simple, like their time in Maryland.

“There is nothing but sugar cane and cattle fields where we go, but the fishing is good, and our friends are there,” Sharon said.

In addition to carving birds, Butch is a decoy collector and historian. He has an eye for certain carvers, and he can tell their work as soon as he sees it. He struck up a friendship with “Toots” Lawson, who started working for the legendary Ward Brothers decoy carvers when he was just 12 years old. Toots remembers decoys selling for two dollars apiece that now bring hundreds of thousands of dollars.

cals like to gather to eat and shoot the breeze, and that’s the kind of place that we like to go.”

They have fit in with locals in various places so well they’ve even been invited to a family birthday party. Allen and Holly put pressure on Butch to write a travel book detailing his favorite coffee and doughnut shops that people don’t know about.

For the past 25 years or so, along with a number of their friends from Caroline County, Butch and Sharon have headed south to Lake Okeechobee in Florida for the winters. Butch found that once it got cold, his work all but stopped in the winter months. Their trips south started out lasting a week or two and then got longer.

They keep their Florida time

“But how do you put a value on sitting down and talking to the Ward Brothers? There are certain

Butch and Sharon with their children Holly and Allen.

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Family & Friends

things you can’t put a value on,” Butch said. “Toots says he enjoys going down and sitting by the creek and just watching the birds and hearing the sounds and sitting there in silence. He enjoys that more than taking a cruise. And I understand that. I might be sitting out in the yard or down by the pier, and every so often a boat will come by. None of our family has gone far away; we’ve mostly stuck around here. We have traveled as far as Hawaii, we have been from Maine to California, but home here is the best. And I think a lot of that has to do with friends and family. They are part of the place.”

Butch turns 80 in May. When they look back on the life they have lived together and life ahead of them, they are able to point out the essentials: God and their kids and the generations to come.

“I can’t tell you how proud we are of our children,” Butch said. “The grandchildren and greatgrandchildren are a joy, and we pray every day for the older ones, too, and hopefully somebody is praying for us.”

Michael Valliant is the Assistant for Adult Education and Newcomers Ministry at Christ Church Easton. He has worked for non-profit organizations throughout Talbot County, including the Oxford Community Center, Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum and Academy Art Museum.

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Easton Map and History

The County Seat of Talbot County. Established around early religious settlements and a court of law, Historic Downtown Easton is today a centerpiece of fine specialty shops, business and cultural activities, unique restaurants, and architectural fascination. Treelined streets are graced with various period structures and remarkable homes, carefully preserved or restored. Because of its historical significance, historic Easton has earned distinction as the “Colonial Capitol of the Eastern Shore” and was honored as number eight in the book

“The 100 Best Small Towns in America.” With a population of over 16,500, Easton offers the best of many worlds including access to large metropolitan areas like Baltimore, Annapolis, Washington, and Wilmington. For a walking tour and more history visit https:// tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/easton-maryland/.

Orion String Quartet Returns to Chesapeake Chamber Music Festival

by Anna Snow

A treat awaits those who attend Chesapeake Music’s 2023 Chesapeake Chamber Music Festival on June 9, 10 and 11 at the Ebenezer Theater. The internationally acclaimed Orion String Quartet will perform Haydn’s energetic and at times mysterious C-major Quartet “The Bird,” Beethoven’s brilliant Quartet in B-flat Major and Bartók’s sixth String Quartet, as

well as Brahms’ second String Sextet with the Festival’s artistic directors, violinist Catherine Cho and cellist Marcy Rosen. Sadly, this will be one of the last opportunities for Eastern Shore chamber music patrons to see the Orion perform. The Quartet will retire at the end of the 2023–24 season, concluding an illustrious 36-year partnership. The members intend

The Orion String Quartet. Back row, left to right: Timothy Eddy, cello; Steven Tenenbom, viola; and Daniel Phillips, violin. Front row: Todd Phillips, violin. (Photo by Andreas Hafenscher)

Chamber Music

to continue their individual teaching and performing careers.

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Chesapeake Chamber Music Festival 2023

Friday, June 9, 7:30 p.m. Festival Opening Extravaganza!

Saturday, June 10, 7:30 p.m. Masterworks!

Sunday, June 11, 5:30 p.m.

Cultural Crossings

Thursday, June 15, 7:30 p.m.

Drama and Delight

Friday, June 16, 7:30 p.m.

Soulful Storytelling

“Having had the privilege for so many years to explore and perform some of the greatest music ever written, we have come to feel that many of these works have actually become a part of our physical and spiritual being,” the Quartet said. “We have chosen to leave our audiences with some final presentations that still fully articulate what we have experienced in this wondrous journey. We look for19

Saturday, June 17, 7:30 p.m. Festival Finale

June 7 and 14, 10 a.m. Free Open Rehearsals

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ward to continuing to reach out to inspire people with our recordings, individual performances and love of teaching.”

The members of the Quartet ~ violinists Daniel Phillips and Todd Phillips, violist Steven Tenenbom and cellist Timothy Eddy ~ are Artist Members of the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. They are especially drawn to Beethoven and recorded his complete string quartets over a five-year period. During 2017–18, their 30th anniversary season as a quartet, they performed all of the quartets over six evenings at the Mannes School of Music, where they held the position of quartetin-residence for 27 years.

Daniels Phillips noted, “We are completely exhausted when we play Beethoven. His music is very demanding, physically, emotionally and spiritually. At the same time, he uses very simple notes, which everyone can understand to the greatest effect on the listener. It is brilliant. Beethoven famously said to musicians who complained how difficult his music was that he gave them ‘music from the gods.’ This is how we feel!”

Admired for diverse programming that juxtaposes masterworks of the quartet literature with key works of the 20th and 21st centuries, the Orion is on

the cutting edge of programming through commissions from composers ranging from Chick Corea to Wynton Marsalis and a creative partnership with the Bill T. Jones/ Arnie Zane Dance Company.

The Orion Quartet is named for the constellation Orion as a metaphor for the personality each musician brings to the group in its collective pursuit of the highest musical ideals.

“We each want to play the way we want to play,” Phillips mused. “To achieve a great sound requires good chemistry and good ensemble skills. One must learn how to listen, to know how much to lead and how much to follow. If you always follow, you will be late. If you always lead, the others don’t have a chance to make their voices heard. It is an ongoing and interesting challenge to get the balance right. Ultimately, it is a very democratic process.”

Festival 2023 is thrilled to have the Orion String Quartet join us to celebrate our 38th anniversary year. Sponsors of this year’s Festival include Talbot Arts, the Maryland State Arts Council, Paul and Joanne Prager and our donors. Visit chesapeakemusic.org to order tickets for the in-theater or video-recorded performances.

Frederick Douglass Honor Society

Presents “Bear Me into Freedom”

An event to support the Frederick Douglass Honor Society Scholarship Fund and Frederick Douglass Day will be held at historic Wye House on Sunday, May 21 from 1 to 3 p.m. Young Douglass lived and worked on the property for 18 months after he was separated from his grandmother, Betsy Bailey. He wrote about his experiences and the people on the plantation in his autobiographies, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave and My Bondage and My Freedom .

Titled “Bear Me into Freedom,” the event offers an extraordinary opportunity to visit Wye House,

one of Maryland’s most historic homes and a National Register property. Edward Lloyd acquired the land along the Wye River in 1659. Constructed between 1784 and 1790 by Edward Lloyd IV, an American delegate to the Continental Congress of Maryland, the house is currently occupied by the twelfth generation of the Lloyd family. Guests will drive down the beautiful tree-lined entrance to be greeted by the sound of the Easton High School Jazz Band in front of the elegant Orangery, likely the earliest intact building of its type surviving in the United States. Author and photographer Jeffrey

The Orangery at historic Wye House

C. McGuiness will display photographs featured in his new book, Bear Me into Freedom: Frederick Douglass of Talbot County. Signed copies of the book and photo prints will be available for purchase. All proceeds benefit the Frederick Douglass Honor Society Fund at MidShore Community Foundation.

at the University of Memphis; Kim F. Hall, Lucyle Hook Professor of English and African Studies at Barnard College; Earnestine L. Jenkins, Professor of History at the University of Memphis focused on the African Diaspora; and Kenneth B. Morris Jr., co-founder and president of the Frederick Douglass Family Initiatives, greatgreat-great grandson of Frederick Douglass and great-great grandson of Booker T. Washington.

Guests will gather under a large tent for delicious hors d’oeuvres, cocktails, music and a round-table discussion focused on Frederick Douglass, his first wife, Anna Murray Douglass, and their children. World-renowned Douglass scholars include Celeste-Marie Bernier, Chair of United States and Atlantic Studies at the University of Edinburgh and author of 85 books, essays and digital educational resources; Bill E. Lawson, Emeritus Professor of Philosophy

The Frederick Douglass Honor Society is dedicated to developing programs that continue Douglass’s legacy, including human rights, education, personal growth and building partnerships with communities and residents. The society honors Douglass’s love for education by awarding scholarships to Talbot County high school students who need financial support to attend college. Frederick Douglass believed that education was a part of the process for realizing human potential, fostering justice and achieving freedom. “Education means emancipation,” he said. “It means liberty. It means the uplifting of truth, the light by only which men can be free. To deny education to any people is one of the greatest crimes of human nature.”

Although Douglass was not formally educated, he wrote three autobiographies and became one of the world’s greatest literary

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figures. Sophia Auld was teaching Douglass to read, but when her husband learned of this, he demanded that she stop. “Knowledge unfits a child to be a slave,” he said. Those words impressed upon Douglass the need and importance of educating himself. Whatever the consequences might bear, he decided to ignore Auld’s decree. Douglass began to trade bread with boys in the streets of Baltimore for opportunities to look at their schoolbooks. Once he learned they were studying the Columbian Orator, he took fifty cents from his shoe-shining earnings, walked into Knight’s bookstore and purchased a copy. The book was a collection of political essays, poems and dialogues written by Caleb Bingham. “Every opportunity I got, I read this book,” he wrote in Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave . “These were choice documents to me. I read them over and over again with unabated interest.

They gave tongue to interesting thoughts of my soul, which had frequently flashed through my mind and died away for want of utterance.” He frequently referred to this book as his “rich treasure.” Believing that learning to read and write was the turning point in his life, Douglass recognized literacy as his pathway to freedom.

From a young slave to an international hero and a powerful abolitionist, he became one of the alltime greatest orators and authors, a statesman, teacher, reformer and illustrious believer in equality for all people. The Frederick Douglass Honor Society is pleased to offer this rare opportunity for the community to gain a deeper understanding of one of our nation’s heroes in the very place where his story began.

Committee members include Harriette Lowery, Vickie Wilson, Richard Marks, Mary Tydings and Debbi Dodson. For more information about this event and the Frederick Douglass Honor Society, visit frederickdouglasshonorsociety.com and the Frederick Douglass Honor Society Facebook page. Tickets are $100 per person and can be purchased at the society’s website.

Frederick Douglass

LOCAL FLAVOR O P E N

Discover the bounty of Caroline County! May is strawberry season – pick your own berries, or find some at one of our many farm markets. Be sure to check out the Ridgely Strawberry Festival on May 28th! Be open for local flavor! Go to VisitCaroline.org.

Caroline County – A Perspective

Caroline County is the very definition of a rural community. For more than 300 years, the county’s economy has been based on “market” agriculture.

Caroline County was created in 1773 from Dorchester and Queen Anne’s counties. The county was named for Lady Caroline Eden, the wife of Maryland’s last colonial governor, Robert Eden (1741-1784).

Denton, the county seat, was situated on a point between two ferry boat landings. Much of the business district in Denton was wiped out by the fire of 1863.

Following the Civil War, Denton’s location about fifty miles up the Choptank River from the Chesapeake Bay enabled it to become an important shipping point for agricultural products. Denton became a regular port-ofcall for Baltimore-based steamer lines in the latter half of the 19th century.

Preston was the site of three Underground Railroad stations during the 1840s and 1850s. One of those stations was operated by Harriet Tubman’s parents, Benjamin and Harriet Ross. When Tubman’s parents were exposed by a traitor, she smuggled them to safety in Wilmington, Delaware.

Linchester Mill, just east of Preston, can be traced back to 1681, and possibly as early as 1670. The mill is the last of 26 water-powered mills to operate in Caroline County and is currently being restored. The long-term goals include rebuilding the millpond, rehabilitating the mill equipment, restoring the miller’s dwelling, and opening the historic mill on a scheduled basis.

Federalsburg is located on Marshyhope Creek in the southern-most part of Caroline County. Agriculture is still a major portion of the industry in the area; however, Federalsburg is rapidly being discovered and there is a noticeable influx of people, expansion and development. Ridgely has found a niche as the “Strawberry Capital of the World.” The present streetscape, lined with stately Victorian homes, reflects the transient prosperity during the countywide canning boom (1895-1919). Hanover Foods, formerly an enterprise of Saulsbury Bros. Inc., for more than 100 years, is the last of more than 250 food processors that once operated in the Caroline County region.

Points of interest in Caroline County include the Museum of Rural Life in Denton, Adkins Arboretum near Ridgely, and the Mason-Dixon Crown Stone in Marydel. To contact the Caroline County Office of Tourism, call 410-479-0655 or visit their website at www.tourcaroline.com .

Dorchester Map and History

Dorchester County is known as the Heart of the Chesapeake. It is rich in Chesapeake Bay history, folklore and tradition. With 1,700 miles of shoreline (more than any other Maryland county), marshlands, working boats, quaint waterfront towns and villages among fertile farm fields – much still exists of what is the authentic Eastern Shore landscape and traditional way of life along the Chesapeake.

For more information about Dorchester County visit https://tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/dorchester/.

TIDEWATER GARDENING

by K. Marc Teffeau, Ph.D.

Garden Musings and the Merry Month of May

Some of the readers of this column may remember an “old-time music song,” Stephen Foster’s “In the Merry, Merry Month of May.” We play a couple of Foster tunes in the dulcimer group I am in. The lyrics go: We roamed the fields and river sides,

When we were young and gay; We chased the bees and plucked the flowers, In the merry, merry month of May.

Oh, yes, with ever changing sports, We whiled the hours away; The skies were bright, Our hearts were light,

In the merry, merry month of May.

In the tune, some people may have “whiled the hours away,” but the rest of us gardeners have a lot of work to do! Since the threat of frost has passed, now is the time to get busy in the home landscape. There are lots of gardening activities to keep us busy in May.

In the flower border, dig and divide dusty miller and replant the more vigorous outside portions of the clump. You can now set out marigolds, petunias, ageratums, salvia and other annual flowers in the flower beds. Be sure these plants get as much sun as possible to encourage prolific flowering. Impatiens is the best annual for use in semi-shady areas, while

begonias, coleus, ageratums and vinca will do well in light shade.

Planting native plants for pollinator insects has become a popular trend over the last few years. You might think you can only plant for pollinators if you have a large yard. If you have a small yard like mine or limited space, you might wonder how you can help these important insects. How about planting pollinator plants in containers? The National Garden Bureau (NGB) has an excellent article on this topic: “Pretty, portable pollinator gardens: Top 10 plants for pollinatorfriendly containers.”

NGB Executive Director Diane Blazek comments, “You don’t have to devote a large space to pollinators to make a difference. Container gardens are a great way to provide the food sources that pollinators need to thrive. Having movable containers can also come in very handy if you want to move your pollinator gardens from space to space. Let’s say you really want to attract bees but have com -

pany coming and there is a concern about the nearness of your beloved bees. It is easy to move the containers to another area of your garden for the duration of that visit! Or you have hummingbird-attracting plants and want to move them so you can watch them at work from the comfort of your home. Simply move them to be visible from inside!”

Check out Blazek’s article at ngb. org/portable-pollinator-gardens for more information and pollinator plant recommendations for containers.

May is the time to set out annual flower and vegetable transplants. Tomato, pepper and eggplant transplants in particular are less stressed when they are set out on

a calm, cloudy day. Unfortunately, you may need to transplant when you have the time, regardless of weather. Strong sun and wind are hard on new transplants, so set out plants in the late afternoon after the wind calms down and the plants can acclimate overnight. Provide shade and wind protection with berry baskets, small crates or screens. Mulching helps, as it lowers the rate at which water evaporates from the soil and controls the soil temperature.

Don’t forget summer-flowering bulbs like dahlias, caladiums, tuberous begonias, lilies, cannas and gladiolus. An excellent addition to any home garden, glads can be planted in the flower bed as irregular groups among other flowers. They are attractive when grown among perennials such as peonies and daylilies. However, glads are often more effective and easier to care for if they have their own exclusive area in the garden. The most popular use for glads is in

flower arrangements. When grown for cutting, they may be planted in rows in the vegetable garden or a corner of the flower border. Large quantities are easier to weed and care for in rows.

Glads may be planted anytime from early May to mid-June. Plant the corms in well-drained soil and protected from wind. Spacing your planting one to two weeks apart will provide continuous bloom. Alternatively, you can choose early, mid-season and late varieties. The days from planting to bloom may

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vary from 60 to 120, depending on the variety. Garden catalogs and information on the bags of corms usually give the number of days to bloom. For earliest blooms, plant early-flowering varieties and begin in early May. Don’t forget to set up a wire or string system to support the glads as they grow. For the best bloom, water thoroughly once a week after the spike begins to show above the soil.

with 1 teaspoon of 5-10-10. Bring it back indoors before frost, and let the soil dry completely so the bulb will go into dormancy. After leaving it in a cool, dark place for eight weeks, bring it back into the light and resume watering. In another eight weeks, your amaryllis should bloom again.

Early spring-flowering deciduous shrubs such as forsythias, weigela and spirea should be pruned back when they have finished blooming. These shrubs start to produce flower buds for next spring’s display on old wood, so if you forget to prune them now and wait until August, you will be pruning out next year’s buds.

The general pruning rule of thumb is not to take out more than one-third of the plant at any one cutting, but some of our more common spring-flowering shrubs can be severely pruned if need be. Cut back a third of the oldest stems to ground level, then cut back onethird of the remaining branches by a third of their height.

What to

do

with

that potted

amaryllis bulb that you forced to flower inside? As soon as the danger of frost is over, it can be placed outdoors for the summer. The potted bulb should be placed in a shaded location and fertilized

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Rhododendrons have flowered and also need a little attention. To keep the plants at their best, it is important to immediately remove the spent flowers. The old flower clusters should be snapped off when partly dry, but remove them with care in order not to decrease or prevent next year’s blooms. Removing the spent flowers will ensure that the plant’s energy is directed to foliage growth and next year’s flowers, rather than seeds.

Cut off the spent flower clusters of lilacs and do some renewal pruning to get them back into shape. Powdery mildew is a major foliage problem for lilacs later on in

summer, so rake up and remove any dead leaves around the lilac bushes while you are pruning. This practice will reduce any powdery mildew fungal spores that overwintered. Pines and other conifers can be kept to a compact size by pinching off the new growth ‘candles’ at this time.

In our area, the best time to fertilize cool-season tall fescue turf is in mid- to late fall. It is very important, however, to mow your turf

correctly. Make sure that the mower blade is sharp, as a dull blade will tear the grass instead of leaving a clean cut. This gives the turf a brown appearance and creates opportunities for disease to infect the grass blades.

Also make sure that you mow at the correct height. For tall fescue lawns, the mowing height should be a minimum of 2 inches, and preferably higher. There is a tendency among homeowners to “scalp” their lawns. This not only damages the grass plant and stresses it by taking off too much of the blade at one time; it also opens up the lawn to crabgrass invasion. Want to keep crabgrass out of the lawn? Mow high instead of applying an herbi-

cide. Crabgrass seed needs light to germinate. Shading the soil surface with tall grass blades will decrease the likelihood that crabgrass seeds will germinate.

If you are growing herbs and gourds in the vegetable garden, you can dry them this summer using the mesh bags that oranges come. You can use old pantyhose to enclose in-

dividual veggies like melons, corn, cabbage, cucumbers and small pumpkins to protect from birds and insects. Tie the pantyhose at both ends of the veggie to keep insects out. The hose will stretch with the growth of the vegetable and dry off quickly after rain.

In May, of course, we celebrate Mother’s Day. Have you been wondering what to get your mom and grandmother? Trees and shrubs make excellent gifts and have lasting memories. There may be a special flowering plant that she has always wanted but has hesitated to buy.

Plants make unique gifts because their value in the landscape appreciates as they grow. Now is an excellent time of year to plant ornamental trees and shrubs, and nurseries and garden centers have a bigger selection of varieties and sizes of plants than they have ever had. But their selection will decrease as summer approaches, and so will the chances of survival because the longer you delay planting, the harder it is on the plants. By the way, don’t just say “Happy Mother’s Day ~ here’s your azalea.” Make it a real Mother’s Day and offer to plant it for her! Happy Gardening!!

410-745-2500

wadesinn@wadespoint.com

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Marc Teffeau retired as Director of Research and Regulatory Affairs at the American Nursery and Landscape Association in Washington, D.C. He now lives in Georgia with his wife, Linda.

St. Michaels Map and History

On the broad Miles River, with its picturesque tree-lined streets and beautiful harbor, St. Michaels has been a haven for boats plying the Chesapeake and its inlets since the earliest days. Here, some of the handsomest models of the Bay craft, such as canoes, bugeyes, pungys and some famous Baltimore Clippers, were designed and built. The Church, named “St. Michael’s,” was the first building erected (about 1677) and around it clustered the town that took its name.

For a walking tour and more history of the St. Michaels area visit https://tidewatertimes.com/travel-tourism/st-michaels-maryland/.

Presidential Precedents by

A.M. Foley

Once upon a time, a United States president violated its Founders’ basic principles after surviving a failed impeachment attempt. The one-term president’s name is now found at or near the bottom of lists rating our chief executives. His ascent to office was unexpected, his having been something of an afterthought in the memorable campaign slogan “Tippecanoe and Tyler Too.” At the time, the choice of John Tyler for vice president left many cold. As one diarist wrote, “There was rhyme, but no reason to it.”

The successful presidential can-

didate, William Henry Harrison (“Ol’ Tippecanoe”), was celebrated for military action against a coalition of Native Americans in 1811 Indiana Territory. The Whig party nominated Harrison in 1840. John Tyler was added to the ticket to attract southern States’ Rights voters. Like most American presidents of their time, Harrison and Tyler were both born to plantation-owning Virginians, but in adulthood Harrison migrated westward, while Tyler remained in Virginia. Though both came from prominent families, Harrison presented himself as

Presidential Precedents

frontier Ohio. Whigs depicted the rather humorless incumbent, Martin Van Buren, as an elitist, despite his modest origins.

a rough-hewn frontiersman. When nominated, Harrison lived in semi-

The 1840 race foreshadowed the modern question, “Which candidate would you rather have a beer with?” Van Buren’s backers pointed out that Harrison’s name backwards spelled “No Sirrah” and charged he would rather “sit in his log cabin drinking hard cider than govern.” Harrison gladly adopted symbols of a log cabin and cider on his posters and broke precedent by openly campaigning for his own election. (Overtly seeking office had formerly been deemed unseemly.) The campaign against one-term President Van Buren became so

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heated that voter turnout soared to over 80% on Election Day.

gest inaugural address. Taking up residence in the White House, Harrison made it a habit to walk to the market each morning, rain or shine. He was soon down with pneumonia and pleurisy and died April 4 after one month in office.

At 67 years, Harrison was then the oldest president ever elected; opponents called him Granny Harrison. Perhaps in over-reaction, on his blustery Inauguration Day, March 4, 1841, he rode horseback to the then-rising Capitol building. From the East Portico, without benefit of hat or overcoat, he spoke for nearly two hours, history’s lon-

The day after Harrison’s inauguration, Tyler had executed his Constitutional duties, officiating a Senate swearing-in ceremony, then

Oxford Map and History

Oxford is one of the oldest towns in Maryland. Although already settled for perhaps 20 years, Oxford marks the year 1683 as its official founding, for in that year Oxford was first named by the Maryland General Assembly as a seaport and was laid out as a town. In 1694, Oxford and a new town called Anne Arundel (now Annapolis) were selected the only ports of entry for the entire Maryland province. Until the American Revolution, Oxford enjoyed prominence as an international shipping center surrounded by wealthy tobacco plantations.

Today, Oxford is a charming tree-lined and waterbound village with a population of just over 700 and is still important in boat building and yachting. It has a protected harbor for watermen who harvest oysters, crabs, clams and fish, and for sailors from all over the Bay. For a walking tour and more history visit https://tidewatertimes. com/travel-tourism/oxford-maryland/.

Before long, news of Harrison’s illness reached him, soon updated to reflect his worsening condition. Tyler stayed home, lest he seem eager for higher office. On April 5, the chief clerk of the State Department brought him formal notification of Harrison’s death.

Tyler found himself in an ambiguous, unprecedented position. Framers of the Constitution had written a brilliant, far-sighted document, but some portions were yet open to interpretation. The Constitution directed that Tyler inherit the “powers and duties” of the president, but for how long? Some, including former President John Quincy Adams, held that Tyler had not inherited the office itself, but had merely become Acting

President, to serve until a new presidential election could be held.

Ignoring opposition, the fraillooking VP took determined action. Supposedly a strict constructionist, Tyler declared the Constitution “crystal clear” on succession. He had the presidential oath administered to himself, delivered a threeminute speech and moved with wife Letitia into the White House, determined to finish Harrison’s term, if not more. Disgruntled opponents dubbed him “His Accidentcy.”

“The Tyler Precedent” established by usage a peaceful transfer of power. Ten years later, when Zachary Taylor died in office in 1850, there was no opposition to Millard Fillmore’s assuming the

presidency. The Tyler Precedent was applied again in 1865, 1881, 1901, 1923, 1945 and 1963. It wasn’t until 1967 that the 25th Amendment finally clarified a mechanism covering presidential death, disability, resignation or unsuitability, all situations that had previously threatened an orderly succession.

After Tyler assumed office, he experienced unprecedented “gridlock,” even though his own Whig party controlled Congress. Under Senator Henry Clay, Whigs read Tyler out of their party, cabinet members resigned and his presidential effigy was hanged and torched on the White House porch. Repeatedly stymied domestically, Tyler looked outward to Foreign Affairs,

Presidential Precedents

where he was less constrained. The nominally staunch States’ Rights advocate is sometimes said to have invented the imperial presidency.

President Tyler also suffered personally. In September 1842, Letitia Tyler died of her second stroke. She had borne John eight children, the youngest then twelve years of age. In his mid-fifties at the time, Tyler was more vigorous than was apparent. His eye soon caught on a prominent New York belle thirty years his junior. Julia Gardiner was a daughter of David Gardiner, lawyer and owner of an island off Long Island, which Gardiners had bought from a native tribe in 1639. With many suit-

ors to choose from, Julia declined to marry when the president proposed, but tragedy intervened.

David and Julia Gardiner were among hundreds of dignitaries in-

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vited to cruise the Potomac River with President Tyler, cabinet members and congressmen aboard the USS Princeton. The innovatively designed warship exemplified Tyler’s desire to develop a powerful fleet, one befitting an expanding nation. (He planned to begin by annexing Texas.)

Princeton mounted two 12-inch cannons, dubbed “Oregon” and “Peacemaker,” capable of firing 200-pound balls over five miles. Oregon, shorter of the two, was meant by the ship’s designer, John Ericsson, to be her only long gun. Ericsson supervised construction and testing of Oregon. The larger Peacemaker was designed and added by commanding officer Captain Robert

Stockton. Peacemaker resembled Oregon but lacked the innovative construction Ericsson employed and was test-fired far fewer times.

Crewmen among the shrouds cheered the president’s boarding on February 28, 1844, while the Marine band played “The Star Spangled Banner.” Cruising downriver, Princeton’s guests were thrilled by two thunderous demonstrations of Peacemaker’s power, fired over objections from Ericsson, who believed sufficient testing had yet to be done. Regardless, the ear-ringing blasts drew cheers from dignitaries and gratified supporters of naval expansion ~ especially Tyler, who was hoping for reelection come fall.

Presidential Precedents

While returning upriver to Washington, Tyler, Miss Gardiner and others retired belowdecks to celebrate with patriotic toasts, luncheon and song. As Princeton neared Mount Vernon, newly appointed Secretary of Navy Thomas Gilmer urged another firing in tribute to George Washington. Tyler started to go above to observe but stopped when a singer launched into his favorite song. Gilmer continued up, along with many other gentlemen. Most ladies remained below, including Julia and former First Lady Dolley Madison.

Above, Captain Stockton had Peacemaker reloaded and pulled the lanyard to salute General Washington. Those remaining below cheered on hearing the blast, until a soot-covered crewman brought news that Peacemaker’s breech had

exploded, killing several guests. Tyler, having narrowly missed being a front-rank observer, found his secretaries of State and Navy among the dead. David Gardiner also died, killed by the molten iron spewed from the ruptured Peacemaker. The president’s enslaved valet, Henry Armistead, lay dead among the dignitaries. Twenty others, including Senator Thomas Hart Benton and Captain Stockton, suffered agonizing wounds. Julia fainted on learning of her father’s death.

The gaunt president scooped Julia into his arms and carried her from the gory deck. Later interviewed by journalist Nellie Bly, Julia said, “I fainted and did not revive until someone was carrying me off the boat, and I struggled so that I almost knocked us both off the gangplank.” The tragedy and Tyler’s sympathetic attentions changed Julia’s view of the older man. “After I

Oxford Business Association May 2023 Calendar

All Month - ‘From Colonial Past to Present, Oxford in Business’ Fri-Mon, 10 to 4. Oxford Museum, 101 S. Morris St. More info. at oxfordmuseummd.org .

5/4 - Beginner Chalk Mineral Paint Class - $45, all materials provided. 5 to 8 p.m. Limit of 3 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

5/6 - Cars and Coffee - Come out and enjoy cars, coffee, and camaraderie. Sponsored by Prestige Auto Vault and Doc’s Sunset Grille. Oxford Community Center. Free; 8:30 to 10:30. www.oxfordcc.org ; 410-226-5409

5/6 - Cooking Demo & Lunch: Chesapeake Bay Blue Crab – Robert Morris Inn; 10 a.m.; Info. and reservations at: www.robertmorrisinn.com .

5/10 - Bring Your Own Piece Furniture Painting Class - $65, includes 4 oz. jar of paint, all material provided .5 to 8 p.m. Limit of 3 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

5/11 - Bee-autiful Buzz - A group of local bee enthusiasts join forces to raise awareness of the importance of bees and their impact on our ecosystem. Free. 5 to 7:30 p.m, Oxford Community Center. For more information go to www.oxfordcc.org or call 410-226-5904.

5/14 - Pancake Breakfast - Oxford Volunteer Fire Department, 8 to 11 a.m.

5/18 - Sign Painting and Transfers Class - $36 - All materials provided. 5 to 7 p.m. Limited to 4 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info. or sign up, go to www. treasurechestoxford.com or call 410-924-8817.

5/19 - Fine Arts Opening Gala - $85 (includes admittance all weekend) - Meet the artists, learn what inspires them. Live music, ‘A Taste of Oxford’ elegant appetizer stations, awards ceremony. 6 to 8 p.m., By reservation only. Oxford Community Center. More info and RSVP at www.oxfordcc.org or call 410-226-5904.

5/20-21 - Fine Arts Exhibit and Sale - $5 - 36 artists on site, raffles, luncheon fare available including homemade strawberry shortcake. 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily. Oxford Community Center. . For more information go to www.oxfordcc.org or call 410-226-5904.

5/22 - SILK All-in-One Chalk Paint Demo - 5 to 6 p.m., $10. Limit of 6 participants. The Treasure Chest, 111 S. Morris St. For more info or sign up, go to www.treasurechestoxford. com or call 410-924-8817.

5/29 - Memorial Day Ceremony - Town Park, 11 am. Sponsored by the Oxford Garden Club. Check restaurant and shop websites or Facebook for current days/hours.

Presidential Precedents

lost my father I felt differently toward the President. He seemed to fi ll the place and to be more agreeable in every way than any younger man ever was or could be.”

When a senator suggested Tyler was a bit old for Julia, the president reputedly replied, “Pooh. Why, my dear sir, I am just full in my prime.” Within four months, Tyler wed Julia in a private ceremony, the fi rst president to marry while in office. He also holds the record for the number of presidential children. He acknowledged fi fteen: eight with Letitia and seven with Julia. At one time he held as many as forty people enslaved, some of whom are said to have been his children, though that’s not been proven. (One of the contradictions in his character: Tyler condemned slavery but never freed any of those he enslaved.)

Rejected by both Whig and Democratic parties, and after an attempt at a third party failed, Tyler and Julia retired in 1845 to a 1,200-acre James River plantation, Sherwood

Forest, named to defy critics calling him a bandit. In 1861, Tyler chaired an unsuccessful commission aimed at avoiding the War Between the States. When the war began, Tyler voted for Virginia seceding and was elected to the Confederate House of Representatives. He was in Richmond to join the Confederate Congress when he died January 18, 1862, at age 71.

Abraham Lincoln and the U.S. government took no official notice of the former president’s death, deeming him a traitor for rejecting his country. Tyler lies in a Richmond cemetery, along with James Madison and Jefferson Davis. Strange bedfellows, indeed.

Forty-some years ago, A.M. Foley swapped the Washington, D.C. business scene for a writing life on Elliott Island, Maryland. Tidewater Times kindly publishes Foley’s musings on regional history and life in general. Published works are described at www.HollandIslandBook.com .

A Secret Ingredient

Most Southerners are crazy about tart, creamy buttermilk ~ a surprise ingredient in many of our foods.

It is probably the most misunderstood item in the dairy case. With flecks of butter punctuating its smooth texture, buttermilk as a beverage lacks a certain appeal. But

as an ingredient, it’s a superstar! It enhances baked goods, adds richness to gravies and offers a creamy base for salad dressings. Substituting buttermilk for some of the milk in baking recipes produces light, tender biscuits and cake layers. If you need a good soaking liquid for that chicken you’re planning to fry

Tidewater Kitchen

or bake, buttermilk not only boosts the flavor and tenderizes the meat, it also helps the breading cling to the chicken.

My grandparents crumbled cornbread into buttermilk for breakfast or a light meal. While today we enjoy buttermilk in the cornbread, rather than the other way around, we still know a good thing when we taste it. Try some of these recipes, and you may want to make buttermilk your own secret ingredient. Though it seems richer and creamier than regular milk, it actually contains the same fat content as the whole, low-fat and nonfat milks from which it is made.

When my grandparents churned butter, it was the liquid that remained after the churning was done. Today’s buttermilk is made by adding lactic acid to pasteurized homogenized milk, which causes

it to thicken and sour. The acid makes buttermilk a prized ingredient in baked goods. It tenderizes them and lends depth of flavor. It also makes this milk a staple that will keep in the refrigerator for up to a week past its sell-by date.

STRAWBERRY BUTTERMILK SHERBET

2 cups fresh strawberries

2 cups buttermilk

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla

Fresh mint sprigs, optional

Process strawberries in a food processor or blender until smooth, stopping to scrape down sides.

Pour strawberry puree through a fine wire mesh strainer into a large bowl, pressing with the back of a spoon. Discard solids. Add buttermilk, sugar and vanilla to puree;

stir until well blended. Cover and chill for 1 hour.

Pour strawberry mixture into the freezer container of a 1 ½-quart electric ice cream maker and freeze according to manufacturer’s directions. Garnish if desired.

SOUTHERN GRIDDLE CAKES

1 cup water-ground self-rising cornmeal

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1-1/4 cups buttermilk

1 egg

1 tablespoon butter or olive oil

Mix the cornmeal and soda together in a mixing bowl; add the milk, egg and melted butter or oil and stir until thoroughly mixed.

Tidewater Kitchen

The mixture should be very thin. Cook on a hot griddle and serve with butter and syrup or with chicken and gravy.

BUTTERMILK CORNBREAD

1/4 cup butter

1-1/2 cups buttermilk

1 large egg

2 cups self-rising cornmeal

Preheat the oven to 425°F. Add butter to a 10-inch cast iron skillet and place in oven until melted, about 8 minutes.

Whisk together buttermilk and egg in a large bowl; add melted butter from skillet and whisk until blended. Whisk in cornmeal until smooth. Spoon into the hot skillet. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden.

BUTTERMILK BERRY COBBLER

This is very easy and relatively virtuous cobbler, as buttermilk is very low in fat! It’s easy because the dough is just dropped on top to

form tender biscuits.

Fruit

4 cups mixed fresh berries: strawberries, blueberries, raspberries and blackberries, gently rinsed and drained.

2/3 cup sugar

Zest of 1 lemon

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Biscuit Topping

1-1/2 cups flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 cup sugar

5 tablespoons butter, at room temperature

1 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Gently rinse and drain the berries.

Tidewater Kitchen

Hull and slice the strawberries. In a mixing bowl, toss the berries with the sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice and cinnamon. Spoon into a 9-inch deep-dish pie plate or baking dish and bake in the middle of the oven until the juices begin to bubble around the edges, about 10 minutes. Prepare the topping by stirring together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and sugar. Work in the butter with a fork to form coarse meal, then stir in the buttermilk to form a slightly soft lumpy batter. Remove the berries from the oven and drop large spoonfuls of the batter over the fruit. Place ½ inch apart, as the batter will spread. Bake until the topping is nicely browned, puffed and just cooked through between the biscuits (pry 2 biscuits apart near the center to check for doneness), 20–25 minutes. Serves 6.

BUTTERMILK BRAN MUFFINS

This batter keeps well in the refrigerator for a few days, which means you can scoop out enough for fresh muffins each morning. Yield: 12 muffins.

1-1/2 cups buttermilk

1-1/2 cups All Bran cereal

2 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons expeller pressed vegetable oil

1 egg, beaten

1-1/4 cups flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

Combine buttermilk and cereal; let stand 5 minutes or until liquid is absorbed. Mix in sugar, oil and egg. Combine remaining ingredients; make a well in center of mixture. Add bran mixture to dry ingredients, stirring just until moistened. Spoon into muffin cups lightly rubbed with butter, filling twothirds full. Bake at 400°F for 20–25 minutes.

GINGERED GINGERBREAD

Gingerbread is usually served for dessert, but it’s great for breakfast, too. The presence of both fresh and crystallized ginger gives this recipe a rich flavor; it is delicious served warm with a dollop of crème fraiche. Makes 12 muffins or 1 cake.

Tidewater Kitchen

Mix until blended and smooth.

In another mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cloves, nutmeg and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the wet mixture and beat to incorporate. Stir in the crystallized ginger and pour the batter into the prepared cake pan or muffin cups. Bake until the gingerbread springs back lightly and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 25–30 minutes for the cake, 20 minutes for the muffins.

2 eggs

1/2 cup buttermilk

1/2 cup molasses

8 tablespoons butter (1 stick), melted and cooled

1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated

1-1/2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 ounces (½ cup) crystallized ginger, chopped into small bits

Crème fraiche for serving (optional)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly butter an 8-inch square cake pan or 12 muffin cups.

Beat the eggs in a large mixing bowl with a wire whisk or an electric mixer on medium speed. Stir in the buttermilk, molasses, butter, brown sugar and grated ginger.

Easy Homemade Crème Fraiche

When I found out that you can mix buttermilk (which has live bacterial culture) into heavy cream and let it thicken overnight to create a true crème fraiche at home, I was excited! For those of you worried about cream spoiling at room temperature, that’s the idea. The good bacteria from the buttermilk multiply in the mixture and prevent dangerous bacteria from taking over. Makes 2 cups.

Tidewater Kitchen

2 cups heavy cream

2 tablespoons buttermilk

Combine the heavy cream and buttermilk in a glass jar or bowl. Cover and allow to rest at room temperature until thickened to the desired texture, 6–12 hours. Store in the refrigerator in a sealed container for up to 2 weeks.

Note: It gets rich and creamy in about 12 hours. You can halt the process earlier by refrigerating it to stop the bacterial action and it will be perfect for drizzling!

BUTTERMILK RANCH DRESSING

1/2 cup buttermilk

1/2 cup sour cream

2 teaspoons lemon juice from 1 lemon

1 medium garlic clove, minced

1 teaspoons Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons fresh chives, minced

2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, minced

1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)

Kosher salt to taste

Whisk together the buttermilk, sour cream, lemon juice, garlic, mustard, chives, cilantro, black pepper and cayenne in a small bowl. Season to taste with salt. The dressing will keep in a sealed container for a week. Shake before using. Makes 1 cup.

A longtime resident of Oxford, Pamela Meredith, formerly Denver’s NBC Channel 9 Children’s Chef, has taught both adult and children’s cooking classes. She currently resides in Easton.

3109 OCEAN GATEWAY

CAMBRIDGE · 410-228-9022

For more of Pam’s recipes, visit the Story Archive tab at tidewatertimes.com.

Queen Anne’s County

The history of Queen Anne’s County dates back to the earliest Colonial settlements in Maryland. Small hamlets began appearing in the northern portion of the county in the 1600s. Early communities grew up around transportation routes, the rivers and streams, and then roads and eventually railroads. Small towns were centers of economic and social activity and evolved over the years from thriving centers of tobacco trade to communities boosted by the railroad boom.

Queenstown was the original county seat when Queen Anne’s County was created in 1706, but that designation was passed on to Centreville in 1782. It’s location was important during the 18th century, because it is near a creek that, during that time, could be navigated by tradesmen. A hub for shipping and receiving, Queenstown was attacked by English troops during the War of 1812.

Construction of the Federal-style courthouse in Centreville began in 1791 and is the oldest courthouse in continuous use in the state of Maryland. Today, Centreville is the largest town in Queen Anne’s County. With its relaxed lifestyle and tree-lined streets, it is a classic example of small town America.

The Stevensville Historic District, also known as Historic Stevensville, is a national historic district in downtown Stevensville, Queen Anne’s County. It contains roughly 100 historic structures, and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is located primarily along East Main Street, a portion of Love Point Road, and a former section of Cockey Lane.

The Chesapeake Heritage and Visitor Center in Chester at Kent Narrows provides and overview of the Chesapeake region’s heritage, resources and culture. The Chesapeake Heritage and Visitor Center serves as Queen Anne’s County’s official welcome center.

Queen Anne’s County is also home to the Chesapeake Bay Environmental Center (formerly Horsehead Wetland Center), located in Grasonville. The CBEC is a 500-acre preserve just 15 minutes from the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Over 200 species of birds have been recorded in the area.

Embraced by miles of scenic Chesapeake Bay waterways and graced with acres of pastoral rural landscape, Queen Anne’s County offers a relaxing environment for visitors and locals alike.

For more information about Queen Anne’s County, visit www.qac.org .

A “Taste of Oxford” at the Oxford Fine Arts Gala

Oxford restaurants will showcase their culinary talents at the 39th annual Oxford Fine Arts

Gala preview party on Friday, May 19 from 6 to 8 p.m. at the Oxford Community Center. The Robert Morris Inn, Oxford Inn/Pope’s Tavern, Capsize and Doc’s Sunset Grille will offer elegant appetizers for this special evening of art and culture that includes live music by the Julie Parsons Project. The preview party has become the talk of the art community. Each year, a new juror curates an exhibition and sales show that can only be seen in its entirety on that first night. Collectors travel from across the region to meet the artists and bring home a one-of-

a-kind masterpiece. This year’s juror, Bernard Dellario, is president of the Washington Society of Landscape Painters, one of the oldest active artist organizations in the Washington, D.C., area. Dellario was first-place winner at Winslow Art Center’s 2021 Winter Exhibition and Best in Show in the Academy Art Museum’s 2019 Annual Member Exhibit. His selections for the show include multiple mediums; 10 of the 36 artists have never seen the show before. Dellario chose Susan Schauer John as this year’s featured artist. Her detailed and often narrative paintings of fabric and thread are eye catching, complex, dense, colorful and beloved. John’s entry, “Just

The Julie Parsons Project

Oxford Fine Arts Gala

Chillin’,” is the show’s featured work of art and will be reflected in centerpieces created by the Oxford Garden Club.

The award ceremony adds extra excitement to the Friday-night gala, with winners chosen by John Brandon Sills. A graduate of Towson University and the Schuler School of Fine Art in Baltimore, Sills has paintings in numerous collections across the United States and abroad.

On Saturday and Sunday, May 20 and 21, the exhibit is open to the public from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The raffle of works donated by the artists occurs at the end of the

show Sunday afternoon. Lunch items are available onsite for purchase both days. The famous strawberry shortcake is not to be missed!

The juried exhibition and sale have supported the work of Oxford Community Center since the early 1980s to provide the region with a year-round schedule of free or reduced educational, cultural and recreational programs and events.

Gala tickets must be purchased in advance and will not be sold at the door. For more information and to buy your ticket, visit www. oxfordcc.org or contact OCC at 410-226-5904.

At Londonderry on the Tred Avon, the Eastern Shore’s only 62+ independent living waterfront community, our residents enjoy exceptional experiences daily.

Our Building & Grounds team is just a phone call away, day or night. They not only take care of all the landscaping around campus, but they handle all the repairs inside and outside our residences.

The Londonderry on the Tred Avon Buildings and Grounds team is another one of the reasons that life at Londonderry is full of exceptional experiences. Every member of our team is dedicated to going above and beyond, and always with a smile and a wave.

This is retirement living at its absolute best. Londonderry residents aren’t busy with day-to-day commitments of homeownership or meal preparation. Instead, they are enjoying strolls around our waterfront campus, lunch with neighbors, bird watching or taking part in one of the many activities we offer.

The Captain’s Son

by Louis C. Wainwright

Transcribed, edited and with notes by James Dawson from an old manuscript he found

The Captain was one of those intrepid men who “go down to the sea in ships.” Naturally fearless and a waterman all his mature life and, consequently, seasoned and experienced, he had become one of that daring sort who at the sign of a storm gives orders: “Run up your sails before it blows so hard you can’t get ’em up.” Such was the de -

scription given to me of the Captain, and such I found him in general, but with the qualification that he did not take foolhardy risks. In fact he was a sailor who had an uncanny instinct concerning weather and could render a diagnosis of the signs and symptoms and could feel the pulse of a threatening tempest with unusual accuracy.

The Captain's Son

His son was a fair-minded, genial young man already well skilled as a waterman, but was not a second edition of his father’s native discernment in nautical affairs.

Both were sailors, and the Captain with paternal interest was coaching his son so that he might develop into a capable, trustworthy sea captain.

In an unexpected manner the good fortune of a voyage with the two befell me.

When I was boarding on Deal’s Island, I had been ill several weeks, and was but just returned to my work when news was brought me that the trim centre board schooner, “A.H. Shulz,” was at the island wharf, that several of the young bay captains whom I knew were going to take a voyage to the Bahamas and perhaps other islands and that if I could be ready in an hour they would take me with them.

There were maybe eight or ten persons in all; the hired crew consisted of the Captain, his son and a young man from Virginia, and the cook; the rest were supplementary to be ready to serve in need.

All in all, the crew was large and the islanders when they saw us making port thought we had rescued some crew from a wreck. The navigator should be reckoned with the crew.

The discipline of the ship is wor -

thy of remark: the Captain was in full authority but had no need to enforce his command. He knew he was the Captain, all on board knew it and fell in line without need of instruction or of reminder; nor on the Captain’s party was there any crude strut or display of authority, so that the voyage was made as though a company of friends were on a pleasure trip.

The son easily took his place both as a son accompanying his father on a voyage, and as a sailor attending strictly to his duty.

In almost every respect the voyage proved notable. Those who are wont to liken life with its perils, labors, and cares, took its daily troubles and hardships of experience to a voyage upon the perilous

The Captain's Son

deep, should, if they would have the significance of the similitude objectified into reality of experience on the sea—should encounter a real storm on the rolling deep and have their knowledge enlarged by such dangers, incidents, and occurrences as befell us on that sea trip to the islands for a cargo of pineapples; for the voyage was stormy and rough, was perilous and exciting, and during its tempestuous days we encountered in a greater or lesser degree almost all things that are wont to be rehearsed by seagoing men, save whales or pirates, or foundering.

I remember reading “An Old

Sailor’s Yarns” and as a matter of fact that series of stories, as far as voyaging is concerned, might in the main to be taken as a guide book of our trip.

We had scarcely cleared Chesapeake Bay and rounded the “False Cape” before a violent wind made us reef our sails, so that we entered the Gulf Stream on the wings of a mighty storm which old sailors pronounced to be the worst they had encountered in eighteen years.

The little schooner rolled amid mountains of water and was tossed on huge billows as a gull on the deep.

Soon the tables, which were fastened to the floor with large screws, were violently wrenched loose and the dishes were sent rolling and

The Captain's Son

crashing back and forth across the floor.

With daylight the storm abated a little in its fury, but at that it was snapping its jaws ready to crunch us. Our boat was small for a high sea voyage, and the waves showed no favor.

The sea air made me sleepy and hungry, so that through no little portion of the storm I drowsily rolled in my berth, much as an inanimate log tossed on the wave; and waking at the call of the sailors I ate as one famine-struck.

Despite my almost stuporous condition, wind and wave with their clamor and sweep shook me and held me awake for hours when the storm was wildest. No one spoke of alarm but often as I rolled and pitched I wondered that the little craft could do such clever mountain climbing up and upon the peaks of those mountain ranges of tossing water.

The cook’s galley seemed securely lashed and spiked and he did a gallant job in boiling coffee, meat and duff, while the pans or pots slid to and fro and spilled over.

He tried to serve meals on the trunk of the schooner, but with poor success. The plates and dishes slid with the rise and fall of the ship as it tossed, and it was next to impossible to fill a cup with coffee. We hugged the trunk and tried to

catch the food with one hand and to hold fast to the boat with the other. The day passed; the night passed and still we were driving before the blast.

The next day the tempest increased. I groped my way up the narrow companionway to look out upon the great blue mountains of ceaseless billows, which seemed as though some mountain chain was fluid and in commotion, with peaks suddenly rising, bursting asunder and giving place to others which rose and frothed and again leaped forward upon the ship’s forward deck, and with a diagonal rush toward the stern to carry the trunk with an assault like that dreadful charge of Pickett’s division to take Round Top, near Gettysburg.

That company of rushing waters failed and rolled over the sides of the tossing vessel.

Immediately I felt the boat come to a stand, as it were, that jarred its timbers, while another great billow with gathered powers reared to strike. The schooner trembled and held its bowsprit as a pointed bayonet to receive the charging billow, and thrust through the bosom of the wave, which bent and rolled headlong, sweeping over the decks and passing the trunk of the ship, plunged again into the deep. We had been reduced to a two-reef foresail and jib so that the little craft was virtually scudding almost under bare poles, as sailors say.

The Captain's Son

The timbers creaked, the shrouds shrieked and the towering waves rolled as though a dozen mountain peaks were engaged in a Corybantic dance on the high seas, keeping time with the wild and clashing cymbals of the storm.

Night came. The Captain’s son was at the wheel and the lashing fury of the storm increased, until the lad in terror shouted down the companionway “Pa, O Pa, it’s blowing up here!”

The Captain was awake in a flash, and leaping from his bunk, rushed up the companionway, calling as he went to the bewildered lad, “I know it; hold the course, son, hold

the course; that’s all we can do, hold the course, son.”

How often have I recalled that fearsome night and the Captain’s sage advice. So it is on life’s voyage; the grand word for all men is to know and hold the course.

All the next day the gale continued. At times I watched the ship rise and fall with the seas.

When we were in the trough of the waves, their towering height and impending crests made them seem as the rugged Sierras with their horny hands grappling with the heavens.

During the storm the centerboard casement was strained, so that it was necessary to turn to the pumps.

The Captain's Son

We were, however, mercifully kept afloat and scudded on our way rapidly; and though for a time we could not determine our speed or position, later it was shown that we ~ without full sail ~ had equalled the ordinary pace of fair weather with all sails set, according to the navigators’ calculation.

During the fury of the storm for some reasons the jib needed attention, for which service the several bay captains, who, as said, were assisting as supplements to the crew, though their main intent was to take a pleasure cruise, where wholly unavailable for any real help on account of their seasickness, so that the two sailors of the boat’s crew went forward to attend to the matter.

One of the two was the Captain’s son.

And the surging waves that rushed head on to devour, while the bowsprit rose and fell, and even bayoneted the assaulting billows, the two young men worked their way up to the place of trouble, their feet on the bow chains and their hands holding the jib ropes or manipulating the jib.

As a bucking bronco the ship reared, shook itself, and buried its nose in the foam as if to shake them loose, but they held fast.

They were young, strong, and daring and knew what to do, so

that though they were occasionally immersed, they worked steadily and undaunted until, at last, the whirling deep as though exasperated at the lads’ determination, gathered its strength, as it were, for a final grand rush of fury.

The ship rose high on a great wave, and then into the huge oncoming billow it dipped low and the two boys were buried from view by the swirl and dash of the angry waters which deluged the forward deck and swept aft.

When the bow reared and shook the water from the bowsprit, one of the boys was missing. The Captain’s son was gone.

From bow to stern the shout was raised, “Man overboard! Man overboard!”

The Captain leaped from his bunk at the alarm, and rushing up the companionway, made inquiry and shouted his orders as he went while all of the men were straining

The Captain's Son

their eyes to locate the unfortunate lad. When they succeeded in locating him he was not where they naturally expected to see him, since as was later ascertained, he had been washed from the chains at the downward plunge of the bow into the huge on-setting wave and had been struck on the back by the “forefoot” of the vessel and pressed down, so that the fore part of the schooner had passed over him. When he was discovered he was some distance from the ship and not quite opposite the stern.

That little space of time lost was almost fatal, as he was so far from the vessel when he was discovered.

Alone and afar in the Atlantic! Helplessness could scarce draw nearer.

I saw him struggling and bravely trying to swim, encumbered as he was by his “oilers.”

About him were hungry waves that sometimes covered him from view; beyond him were walls of oncoming billows in the dire rush of storm; and beyond them visible at times were fragments of the horizon lying between occasional rents in the great storm clouds.

It was a tragic scene; water, wild and plunging had converted the whole visible surface of the deep into frothing liquid, leaping mountains intent as it were to scale the heavens and throttle the

The Captian's Son

light of day. The waters plunged and leaped and roared ~ ramping, snarling, roaring wild beasts intent on seizing their prey, and showing their white fangs as they roared. One lone youth with the paws of the billows on his bosom and he helpless, slowly succumbing awhile the huge beasts snarled and tossed and played with their struggling prey after the manner of all felines. Ever and anon the welkin reverberated with the mighty roar of the cruel pitiless billows, and there central in the midst was one yearning helpless youth wondering as he struggled what would become of him, what more could happen to him. Would he faint and sink into the pitiless deep? Would some dreadful man eater find in him a rare delight of a human tidbit? Was he doomed?

All the on-lookers viewed the scene with consternation, sorrow, and a sense, a humbling sense, of the human weakness and littleness in the face of such great issues. The rage of the sea, the fury of the deep

~ and that boy coping with the mad Atlantic. They were throwing the ropes and planks, but they saw only water, water; water churning and foaming where the billows burst with deluge of spray; beyond was

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The Captain's Son

water piling and rolling to form new billows; and then water rimmed by the frowns of an ominous sky. Nothing was visible upon the tumultuous waste of angry seas save occasionally the half submerged head or the partly emerging shoulders of a struggling man, save only one lone, helpless thing central within the circle of the cloudy horizon of a vast and shoreless sea; save a lone, struggling boy resolutely wrestling with the agitated waters.

Was ever helplessness more nearly complete and absolute, more realistically objectified before the eyes?

Though the boy struggled, he was receding; he and the schooner were gradually parting. Could he be reached? It was impossible to turn the ship; it was impossible to launch the yawls. Nor was there time to do either of these things; the boy must be reached at once or he would be lost. All things available were thrown to him to support him, if perchance he would be fortunate enough to lay hold on them.

All the ropes were thrown to him but none quite reached him, and he was growing exhausted and drifting farther away.

It did look as though the Captain’s son was as good as lost.

As the men threw ropes or floats and failed, anxiety reigned, shaded with helplessness and despair.

The boy was no longer abreast of the shop but drifting on its starboard side, and would soon be beyond reach of a long rope. To us the position seemed ominous, but after all it was the most favorable position available since the forward ropes and possible floats had been vainly cast, the most favorable, too, because his father was there ready to cast the main sheet which was the longest rope on the deck.

His was a practiced hand, and as he shouted to catch the lad’s attention, in lasso fashion whirled the rope. It did seem that the lad heard his father’s voice, for his strokes seemed stronger and his face seemed turned toward his father in expectation.

It was a momentous second, for the boy was weary, his clothes would soon be wholly filled, all that might help him had been thrown to him and he was drifting aft; the last rope was hurtling toward him. Would it miss as the others had done? Or would he fail to catch it as he had done before? The last rope was the longest; it had been thrown to the weary swimmer, but it had been thrown by a father’s hand, a loving hand. As its length sped across the angry waters, it reached the boy and lapped his hand. He caught it and held fast.

It was a touching scene: a father had thrown a lifeline to his son about to perish.

But the danger was not past. The

The Captain's Son

storm was angry, the boy’s clothes were filling with water and increasing by their weight the difficulty of his holding the rope. The lad was near to the weariness of exhaustion, and yet he must hold on till he was brought to the stern of the ship, and then sustain his weight until he was hoisted sufficiently high for the men on shipboard to reach down and grasp him. Over the crashing waves the father’s voice rang to encourage him. “Hold on, son,” he cried. “Hold on! We will soon reach you! Hold on, son!”

The sailors were judiciously drawing the boy toward the ship, a tempered process, for they dared

not be hasty or precipitate, glad as all were, lest the rope be dragged from the boy’s weary hands.

As rapidly as they could, hand over hand, they drew in the line at a speed that was almost too slow for ebbing strength, but the father watched and cheered with his call, “Hold on, son, just a little longer, we’ll soon have you aboard.”

The boy held, but seemed at times to slip a little, when again his father would encourage him: “We’ll have you on board in a minute, hold on son, hold on.”

So at length they hauled him close aft.

The boy was near. They could speak to him easily, but he was in the ocean some ten or twelve feet

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The Captain's Son

below his helpers and must hold the rope fast until they could lift him from the waves and bring him within reach of their strong hands. Should he let go of the rope all would be over. The anxious father saw and knew and stood cheering him and assuring him, “Only a little longer! Only a few feet! Hold on, son, hold on!”

It was all the exhausted boy could do to clutch and hold the rope fast. The father knew, and never did his words of cheer fail. “Just a minute more there, hold tight. I’ll catch you.”

At last he was hoisted within reach of loving hands that reached down

and grasped him, two his hands and one his collar, and thus they dragged him aboard. He was saved.

He gained his feet, staggered from excitement and exhaustion, and would have fallen but that his father and one of the men caught him in their arms.

His wet clothes were removed and a dry shirt and pantaloons were found. So chilled was he that I folded him in my overcoat. Then they took him to a bunk where he fell asleep.

When next day the storm had sufficiently abated, the navigator endeavored to locate our position and found we were in the vicinity of Great Abaco, and “the Hole in the Wall.”

The Captain's Son

Simple as it seems, it was nonetheless a matter of some difficulty to find our location since the seas were still running high and the sun was none too bright at noon. That night we wallowed around rather than sailed. However, on the next day, conditions for “taking the sun” were good and we again set forth on our way with certainty and knew we would soon reach land.

Meantime the Captain’s son was rested and recovered, and as we saw him again at his trick, we were glad. l recognized we had been spared a tragedy. My thoughts often reverted to the scene, and as I contemplated the happiness of that wild sea hour ~ and recalled a father’s cool, grand self-command ~ I saw, as though etched on the bosom of immensity, a father’s care, and quoting partially a familiar verse, I said, “As a father pitieth his children.”

Afterword by J.D.: Wainwright does not give the Captain’s name, but it was probably Capt. Harvey Conway, who had a long association with the Schulz as her captain and later as her owner, and who ran a very successful business with a fleet of schooners carrying oysters, fish, produce, grain, lumber and bulk goods.

While Capt. Conway was well liked, he had a reputation for being a hard driver and for sailing in ad -

verse winds, as Wainwright noted, because his attitude was “Drive her when the wind blows, you never make money laying in harbor.”

He had five sons: Harvey Jr. (born 1888), James (born 1890), Robert (born 1893), John (born 1895) and Marion (born 1900). All five sailed for their father, later owned their own schooners and lived in houses their father owned on Choptank Avenue in Cambridge. It is not known which son was the subject of this story, but it was probably his oldest son, Harvey Jr., and so this incident would have taken place in the early 1900s.

Life on a schooner could be dangerous. Capt. Harvey’s brother,

Capt. Edward Conway, was caught in the main sheet of his schooner Ella , swept overboard and drowned and was lost off Tolchester on July 4, 1908. Capt. Harvey offered a reward for the return of his body, which was found on July 13.

The two-masted 77-foot-long schooner A.H. Schulz was built for the pineapple trade by the William E. Woodall Co. in Baltimore in 1872. She would have more adventures than the one noted here. At some point, she was purchased by her skipper, Capt. Harvey Conway, and was one of the first vessels in his fleet and his favorite. In 1893, she was struck by a waterspout and put into Norfolk for repairs.

In 1922 , the Cambridge (Md.)

Banner reported:

“One of the most destructive fires that has occurred in Cambridge for several years took place early this morning when the entire plant of the Dorchester Lime and Fertilizer Co., manufacturers of shell lime, chick feed, crushed shells and fertilizers, was completely destroyed by a fire which was discovered about a quarter after one o’clock.

The plant is located at Green Street and the water front in East Cambridge and was said to have been the most complete plant on the peninsula…

At the time of the fire the schooner A.H. Shultz [sic], belonging to Captain Harvey Conway, was aground right near the factory and

The Captain's Son

was badly damaged by the blaze and the sails being burned off and much of the rigging being destroyed. The Shultz [sic] caught fire three times but by hard work the flames were put out each time. [Daily Banner (Cambridge, MD.) Oct. 27, 1922].

Note that the schooner’s name

was sometimes erroneously given as A.H. Schultz , but that is a mistake, as there certainly weren’t two schooners, the A.H. Shulz and the A.H. Shultz , each built in Baltimore in 1872 and whose names were both changed to the Sarah C. Conway. The A.H. Shulz is correct, as she was named for Alexander H. Shulz, a dealer in groceries, liquors, flour,

salt, oils, rope, guano and feed in Baltimore in the 1870s.

About 1925, Captain Harvey renamed her after his wife, Sarah C. Conway. In the mid-1930s, just before his death in 1937, he sold her to a Dr. Sharp of New Jersey, and a few years later she was found abandoned in a marsh in New Jersey next to a sign that read “Dump Trash Here.” The Conway was purchased by Calvert Evans from Vienna, who rebuilt her and converted her to a diesel-powered freighter. While Evans thought the Conway was a crack sailer, he had to keep up with the times.

In May 1957, while the 85-yearold Sarah C. Conway was tied up at a wharf near the Vienna bridge loaded with 5,000 bushels of corn, she sank in 65 feet of water after being broadsided by a runaway oil tanker being pulled by a tug from Delaware. Peter Drinkwater, the cook who lived on board, was killed. She was raised the next year, repaired and put back into service.

About 1970, she was sold to Capt. Rick Savage of Berlin, Md., and was converted for surf clamming off Ocean City, Md. In 1978, the Sarah C. Conway was thought to be the oldest documented schooner in the U.S.

She was still afloat in 1983 when her crew was charged with impersonating a pirate ship by flying a skull and crossbones flag and brandishing a gun to scare away some divers from a sunken wreck they had been illegally looting.

Peter Lesher, chief curator of the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, notes that the Sarah C. Conway sank for the second and final time off Atlantic City on March 6, 1986, putting an end to

The Captain's Son

a long and interesting career. The museum has her trailboards and a model of the Schulz .

A photo of her last voyage under sail before she was converted to diesel was published in the Baltimore Sun on Dec. 16, 1973, and Oxford artist John Moll also did a drawing of her. A.M. Foley mentioned the schooner in her article “Hurleys Neck” in the Dec. 2020 Tidewater Times .

Glossary

corybantic dance: one that is frenzied or overwrought

duff: a dessert made with fruit

rolled in dough, boiled and served with a sauce.

Forefoot: the intersection of the curved bow stem or post with the keel

False Cape: a mile-wide spit of land on the Currituck Sound near Virginia Beach, Va.

Great Abaco is the second largest island in the Bahamas, and Hole in the Wall is an opening in a rocky wall in the southern tip of Abaco in the Bahamas that allows boat traffic in and out and is also the location of Hole in the Wall lighthouse. Pickett’s Charge took place on Cemetery Ridge, not Round Top, during the Battle of Gettysburg.

oilers: a raincoat

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trick: a turn of duty at the helm usually for about 2 hours. trunk: the center keel of a schooner welkin: cloudy, wet atmosphere.

For more about schooners and the A.H. Schulz see Chesapeake Bay Schooners by Snediker and Jansen; Tidewater Publishers; 1992 which has two of the photos that I used.

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Tilghman’s Island

“Great Choptank Island” was granted to Seth Foster in 1659. Thereafter it was known as Foster’s Island, and remained so through a succession of owners until Matthew Tilghman of Claiborne inherited it in 1741. He and his heirs owned the island for over a century and it has been Tilghman’s Island ever since, though the northern village and the island’s postal designation are simply “Tilghman.”

For its first 175 years, the island was a family farm, supplying grains, vegetables, fruit, cattle, pigs and timber. Although the owners rarely were in residence, many slaves were: an 1817 census listed 104. The last Tilghman owner, General Tench Tilghman (not Washington’s aide-de-camp), removed the slaves in the 1830s and began selling off lots. In 1849, he sold his remaining interests to James Seth, who continued the development.

The island’s central location in the middle Bay is ideally suited for watermen harvesting the Bay in all seasons. The years before the Civil War saw the influx of the first families we know today. A second wave arrived after the War, attracted by the advent of oyster dredging in the 1870s. Hundreds of dredgers and tongers operated out of Tilghman’s Island, their catches sent to the cities by schooners. Boat building, too, was an important industry.

The boom continued into the 1890s, spurred by the arrival of steamboat service, which opened vast new markets for Bay seafood. Islanders quickly capitalized on the opportunity as several seafood buyers set up shucking and canning operations on pilings at the edge of the shoal of Dogwood Cove. The discarded oyster shells eventually became an island with seafood packing houses, hundreds of workers, a store, and even a post office.

The steamboats also brought visitors who came to hunt, fish, relax and escape the summer heat of the cities. Some families stayed all summer in one of the guest houses that sprang up in the villages of Tilghman, Avalon, Fairbank and Bar Neck. Although known for their independence, Tilghman’s Islanders enjoy showing visitors how to pick a crab, shuck an oyster or find a good fishing spot.

In the twentieth century, Islanders pursued these vocations in farming, on the water, and in the thriving seafood processing industry. The “Tilghman Brand” was known throughout the eastern United States, but as the Bay’s bounty diminished, so did the number of water-related jobs. Still, three of the few remaining Bay skipjacks (sailing dredgeboats) can be seen here, as well as two working harbors with scores of power workboats.

Kent County and Chestertown at a Glance

Kent County is a treasury of early American history. Its principal towns and back roads abound with beautiful old homes and historic landmarks.

The area was first explored by Captain John Smith in 1608. Kent County was founded in 1642 and named for the shire in England that was the home of many of Kent’s earliest colonists. When the first legislature assembled in 1649, Kent County was one of two counties in the colony, thus making it the oldest on the Eastern Shore. It extended from Kent Island to the present boundary.

The first settlement, New Yarmouth, thrived for a time and, until the founding of Chestertown, was the area’s economic, social and religious center.

Chestertown, the county seat, was founded in 1706 and served as a port of entry during colonial times. A town rich in history, its attractions include a blend of past and present. Its brick sidewalks and attractive antiques stores, restaurants and inns beckon all to wander through the historic district and enjoy homes and places with architecture ranging from the Georgian mansions of wealthy colonial merchants to the elaborate style of the Victorian era.

Second largest district of restored 18th-century homes in Maryland, Chestertown is also home to Washington College, the nation’s tenth oldest liberal arts college, founded in 1782. Washington College was also the only college that was given permission by George Washington for the use of his name, as well as given a personal donation of money.

The beauty of the Eastern Shore and its waterways, the opportunity for boating and recreation, the tranquility of a rural setting and the ambiance of living history offer both visitors and residents a variety of pleasing experiences. A wealth of events and local entertainment make a visit to Chestertown special at any time of the year.

For more information about events and attractions in Kent County, contact the Kent County Visitor Center at 410-778-0416, visit www. kentcounty.com or e-mail tourism@kentcounty.com . For information about the Historical Society of Kent County, call 410-778-3499 or visit www.kentcountyhistory.org/geddes.php . For information specific to Chestertown visit www.chestertown.com .

“This novel ~ set in the round the world race ~ has some very bad characters out to ruin a young man struggling to find his identity, an unexpected love interest, and some intense blue water sailing."

The book was originally serialized in Tidewater Times. Available on Amazon, print or eBook.

Changes: Coming Again A novel in progress

by Roger Vaughan

Chapter 21: Sailing

It was remarkable how the weight was suddenly gone, how just the simple act of casting off was like breaking some umbilical connection, producing a ghostly silence where there had once been the chaos of all things land-based creating a benumbing white noise. You had to be casting off for somewhere distant for it to work, not just for a jaunt across the harbor or the bay, somewhere like Plymouth, England, a 4,300-mile trek from Miami that would take the better part of two weeks. Transatlantic. That would do. Unplugged, Andy thought, feeling blissfully untethered, venturing out where sea and sky were the only boundaries, where sun, moon and stars, wind, rain and clouds were the only companions. Other than the weatherfax machine and Andy’s eleven fellow crewmen. But the machine was dormant most of the time, and the boys were untethered as well, free as birds, as high with relief as Andy was. In two hours, the last hint of land had disappeared astern. Priorities had quickly shifted to uncompli-

cated basics: course, boat speed and if the proper sails were up and being well attended.

The start had been uneventful. In a moderate wind, the six boats had played it fast and tight for the cameras. Even if the start meant little or nothing in a 4,000-mile race, it was still a start. No skipper could resist the close combat involved, and television needed video and a story for that night’s news. All six skippers went for it like it was critical. To make it interesting, a beer company sponsoring The Race had put up a $10,000 prize for the boat that won the start. Andy had not won it. Neither had Koonce.

After the start, Andy had gone off watch. Sleep had not come easy. It had taken a while to close so many files. With Sam’s death, Moss Optics had become a burden. Andy had quickly concluded that the CEO job was not for him. He’d chair the board, have fun keeping track of the Mountain View project, but they had to find someone else to run the company. Another person for Gloria to handle. As if Isha wasn’t enough

Coming Again

for any one person to handle. Gloria had told Andy Isha’s last words: “If you can catch me.” What the hell was he doing, giving her a job, just being a sucker like all the other men Isha had manipulated along the way, damaging some worse than others, Andy thought as he scratched his right butt cheek with care to temper the itch without causing discomfort. Discomfort. He had to smile. Just another monkey trained by Madison Avenue. He hoped Isha’s first special assignment was challenging enough to keep her interested. If not? Well, she had a job. And there was Mark Creighton. She’d better watch herself with him. She might have met her match there.

another little can on board,” he’d said. “Needs to go to the UK.”

Andy stared at his father, dumbfounded. This was going to be a regular deal? He was suddenly supposed to be a part of this group that had been moving jewels illegally for twenty years, this group that seemed to be run by Grady? The beer suddenly tasted very flat.

“No,” Andy said quietly, shaking his head. “Nope. Not interested.”

“You have to admit, the last one was easy. Piece of cake.”

Grady had another delivery in mind, a little canister that needed to go to the UK.

Andy had tested his match with Grady. His last go-round with him had been on the tense side. Grady had another delivery in mind, a little canister that needed to go to the UK. Andy couldn’t believe he’d suggested it after the angst involved with the Miami delivery once Isha had scoped it out. Grady had decided to stay in Miami to watch the start of the final leg. Andy had been talked into having a few friendly beers with him in Bicentennial Park two days before the start. Martin had joined them, which Andy thought was odd. Grady had gotten to it quickly.

“I thought you might like to take

“Easy? For you. It wasn’t on your boat. You didn’t have Isha and RD homing in on you. And I’ve been meaning to ask, where did they get the information to start putting it together? They came mighty damn close. Much too close.”

“That’s been fixed.”

“What?”

“The leak. Guy named Jocko in Mustique. Big player. Does it for laughs. I told you the top guys were loose, dangerous. Jocko had a fall a few days ago. Broke his arm.”

“Are you kidding?” Andy was stunned.

“Don’t look at me,” Martin said. “Never left Miami.”

Andy wanted to run from the table. Somebody in Mustique had broken Jocko’s arm?

“It doesn’t happen very often,” Grady said. “But you can’t let that kind of loose talk go down without

Coming Again

making a point. Would derail the whole deal. As it is, we’ll have to go quiet for a year or so. But there’s just this little can that needs to get to the UK.”

“And the keel work has been done,” Martin said.

Andy stared at the two men. “If you are here to persuade me,” Andy said to Martin, “go for it.” He’d gotten up and walked slowly away from the table. Five steps later, he’d felt the hand gripping his shoulder, turning him. He’d clenched a fist, cocked the arm, then saw it was Grady.

Grady had looked at him. “My advice,” Grady had said, “would be to stay north. Better winds this time of year, and the current will help.”

“At least he didn’t push it. I wasn’t so sure. Martin was there.”

“Martin.” Becky gave a shudder, shook her head.

At 8 p.m., Andy went back on deck to take the wheel. The boat was quiet, close reaching in twelve to fifteen knots out of the southwest. Speed over the ground was nearly fourteen knots, thanks to an additional push from the Gulf Stream. Zimmer was trimming the jib and Sargent was on the main, with the Kolegeri brothers on the handles. They were favoring a northly course, as Grady (and others) had suggested.

Becky couldn’t believe Grady had tried to get Andy to carry another package.

“Thanks,” Andy had said, giving his father a hug.

Becky couldn’t believe Grady had tried to get Andy to carry another package.

“Oh, I can see it,” Andy had replied. “That’s what he does, and here comes a totally safe guy, me, his son ~ tested! ~ with one to the good, with the keel bolts prepped… why wouldn’t he suggest another delivery?”

“Because you came too close to being ripped off, that’s why,” Becky said. “Come on! He’s getting greedy.”

Becky. She’d join him in the UK. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was so…steady. Feet on the ground. And such a sexy woman. Teased him about being pregnant. She wasn’t. Didn’t want to be. Had taken the climate thing to heart. “Climate chaos,” she called it. For real. This was no time to bring a kid into the world, she’d said. She’d gotten him into it. He had to admit, the science was impossible to ignore. There was a certain amount of cyclical climate stuff involved, true enough, but human involvement was huge. World population was increasing by more than 10 percent every ten years. Five and a quarter billion now. Too many hens in the pen. Too many hens who didn’t give a damn, greedy little

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Coming Again

hens who could only protect their own little stashes of corn. Trying to get more every day while the planet was being trashed. Denial, big time. He’d seen the extraordinary puddles of plastic in the Doldrums, garbage dumps a mile or two across.

Becky loved the idea of the mountain in Vermont, insisted they build a house for themselves there when Mountain View went up. Keep our feet dry, she’d said. Made sense. They’d spend time in Europe after the finish. Becky had assignments. She’d volunteered to photograph glacial melting in Greenland and Spitsbergen on an annual basis for a big environmental group led by a senator named Al Gore who’d been preaching the perils of climate chaos since the 1980s. To mostly deaf ears. But Andy was in. It made perfect sense for Moss Optics to chip in, help make a difference. Moss, with its glass eye ever on the universe. *

Jan Sargent had been below at the nav table. He came on deck, put

his binoculars on the red light they could barely see a mile or more off to starboard. “Ram,” he said. “Pay your money, make your choice. They go south, we go north. Wonder what he thinks he knows. Winner take all.”

“You’re even up with Koonce on the rum.”

“Even up.”

“Well, I hope we beat him. I hope you end up with a case in your trunk. But, you know, either way is okay with me. Like those shirts Eric had made. Seen them? He plans to break them out at the fi nish. It says across the shoulders, ‘Once you’ve been touched by The Race, life is never the same.’”

Sargent chuckled. “He got that right.”

The smell of bacon cooking wafted out of the hatch, followed by Teddy Bosworth’s smiling face. “Breakfast, anyone?”

Previous chapters can be found at www.tidewatertimes.com

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