My daughter, son, and I went on my parent’s boat for a second time in 2001. My father had died the year before and, John, a friend of my parents was skippering the boat for my mother. The children got along well with him. My son would sit up on the navigation table and watch John navigate. John and my daughter would spend hours playing Uno while everyone else’s noses were buried in books.
Late one afternoon, John took the two children over to an island near where we were anchored. We were in a safe channel between the mainland and a small island. There was a strong current flowing through the channel, making rowing or swimming impossible.
Off they went on their adventure. My mother went down to her aft cabin for a read. I lay down on the starboard bunk in the main cabin for a little snooze.
A long while later I hear some cries for help coming from outside. I look out the window to a funny sight: John rowing furiously and the children sitting still in a rapidly deflating dinghy. (Some oyster shells had cut razor-fine slits into the dinghy).
Instead of running to their rescue, by throwing them a line (or something!), I took my camera and shot a photo. Needless to say, John was startled with my complete lack of she-bear instincts.
Though we did manage to get everyone on board without getting his or her feet wet. And, we pulled the dingy on deck before the outboard motor sank below the water surface.
Late one afternoon, John took the two children over to an island near where we were anchored. We were in a safe channel between the mainland and a small island. There was a strong current flowing through the channel, making rowing or swimming impossible.
Off they went on their adventure. My mother went down to her aft cabin for a read. I lay down on the starboard bunk in the main cabin for a little snooze.
A long while later I hear some cries for help coming from outside. I look out the window to a funny sight: John rowing furiously and the children sitting still in a rapidly deflating dinghy. (Some oyster shells had cut razor-fine slits into the dinghy).
Instead of running to their rescue, by throwing them a line (or something!), I took my camera and shot a photo. Needless to say, John was startled with my complete lack of she-bear instincts.
Though we did manage to get everyone on board without getting his or her feet wet. And, we pulled the dingy on deck before the outboard motor sank below the water surface.
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