The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1877-07-20
Number IL
The Cruise OF the Princess.
FROM White Head to sawyer's Cove-A
Long Days Run-The Magic and mys-
terry of the Sea.
POINT OF MAIN. July II. 1877

POINT OF MAIN, July II, 1877
To the Editor of the Press:
Saturday morning, July 7th, the good yacht
Princess, the flag ship of the Portland SQUAD
ron, spread her white sails and SKINNED out of
Casco Bay bound East. Out by old White
Head, past Halfway Rock. and on for Small
Point we sailed, past the hundred beautiful
islands and iulets of our peerless bay. The
sea cleaned and the islands smiled on us as
brightly as in boyhood days of yore. "The
times change and we change with them" but
the ocean rolls on chapgeless forever Happy
is he whom the ocean loves-he has one friend
that never grows DID,
Off Halfway rock the north ,east wind with
which we were sailing close hauled, died Tout,
but out to seaward came ripping and spark.
ling the advance puffs Of a south west Wind
the boom swings over, the sails fill, the yacht
bows in happy recognition and on we glide
Of Cape Small Point we bear away a couple
of points and set the bal, ,5on jb. A bright
wind just ripping the sea, watts us on past
that ocean sentinel, Seguin, which lies off the
Kennebec as the Isle of Serpents lies off the
Danube, over the broad expanse of Sheepscot,
by Damarscove past the point of Pemaquid,
in full view of Bristol, three miles up the pen
insuls, where in the olden time was q busy
mart, before the pilgrims landed on the Mass
achusetts "Blarney stone and where stood a
walled city with paved streets and frowning
forts while Boston was as a provincial village.
Now We take our course for Egg rock as vet
beneath the wave, but when it rises we know
our bowsprit will be pointing for it as trne as
the needle to the pole. Smooth lies the ocean;
q long, lazy roll like the sigh of a summers
day. alone moves over the giant plain. White
capped clouds rise over the land The summer
breeze just fills the sails, and sleepily we glide
along. The sun sets as we pass through DAVIS
straits. but we creep on through the twilight
and drop anchor in Herring Gut as the last
glow OF this lovely, lazy day is dying in the
west.
Life on yacht is uncertain, and therein lies
one of its greatest charms but the crew of the
Princess had thoroughly resolved that out of all
the uncertainties OF yachting they would
snatch one goJd day run. So at break of day
on Monday, July 9Th, the purser poked his
nautical nose up through the companion way
and announced e1 cathedra 50 breeze" Now
1t happened that, save in this authoritative an
announcement there was no breeze sin heaven
above. or in the earth beneath, or in the waters
under the earth" yet so confident was the pur-
ser in his inner consciousness that there tuds
breeze, SO dictatorial was his announcement
thereof, and so eager were our hopes tor the
same, that the words of the purser produced
instant and utter conviction. In undress uni
| form the "merrie companie' sprsng on deck,
and the Princess was at once got under weigh
| in as stark calm as ever fell over the placid
waters of Herring Gut
Gracefully we drfted asteru, pointing out,
but backsiding 10. Soon, however, little
southery air fills the gatf top-sail the Princess
| gets under steerage way, and in half an hour
| we tack back against the flood tide to our an-
| chorage. The breeze freshens bit, and at 10
minutes past a. M, we pass MarshalPs Point
Light, start our sheets and bear away for Mos
| quito Island. The breeze hauls to the west
ward, we boom out the balloon jib. and ripple
on tve knots an hour, pass White Head Light
at 40 and go below to coffee and broiled chick
ems and strawberries while gliding through the
| smooth waters of Muscle Ridges Coming on
| deck we are in full view of the great granite
| quarries of Dix Island on our star board, and
| leaving Owls Head and Ashland TO port we
| stand across the broad expanse of Penobscot
| Bay, which opeus as generously to the sea as
the hearts OF its inhabitants open to the stranger
| within their gates. Grandly tower the hills of
| Camden, with Rockport glistening like jew
| eled sandal at their feet.
The wind pipes up, the Princess bends before
it and darts along eight knots an hour. A
| squall strikes andsthe boom of the balloon jlb
| bends upward in anything but line of beauty
| to those who hope to use il again. We take it
| on board before another PUFF, furl the balloon,
/ pass FiddleT's Ledge Beacon at 9 35, aud shoot
| into the still waters OF Fox Island Thorough
| fare, gliding by the Sugar Losves-of sugar ex-
| ceediDg brown-and Pulpit Rock, rearing its
/ grand altar to Heaven, beacon for storm
| tossed mariners many leagues at sea-
| On between North Haven and Vlnal Haven
we speed, past the barbor which marks the
eastern point Of Gen. Grants cruise to, or
/ rather towards Mount Desert Grant CONQUERED
the rebellion, but the fog conquered the con-
/ queror He did not fight it out on the fog line,
/ doubtless because he thought it would take
| him more than all summer, but turned before
| great King Fog and fled. Still on past the hill
| on Vinal Haven, where we ruthfully gazed on
the in-drifting hosts of the fog, in our first
| Eastern cruise in the Whisper. We dart by
Channel Rock at half past ten, and bowl across
1 Isle Baut Bay, five miles in half an hour.
| Isle Haut, the symmetrical isle of the Sea,
raises its perfect cone from the wave. Now
| the wind drops bit, the sun shines again
/ through the haze, we set jib top-sail and slide
along through Deer Island Tborougbfare.
Here the dark rocks that distinguish Casco
| Bay entirely cease. Every island is a mass of
/ granite, and the white brows of rock CLEAN in
/ pretty contrast with the green coronets of
/ spruces they support. On we howl, yes, 1 use
the word advsedly, ho'cl, fairly HOWL, twelve
/ knots an hour.
Northward loom the SUBMITS Of Mt Desert,
dim, blue, vast. White caps dance all around
us. Swift as the flying arrow cleaves the
Princess through the brine, dashiDg the spray
from her PROV and strewing the sea with
constant shower of diamonds which dance
| witch dance over the wave to the music of our
/ surging march.
We speed through Yorks Narrows at half
| past twelve. Only two hours from Channel
Il
bodily out of the wave as we press on and their
dim blue becomes cold, rock gray. On we
| swing, sail over Bass Harbor bar at quarter
/ past one, then We go below to dinner, and be-
fore the meal is finished we have left Bakers
Island Lights behind and are speeding over
i Frenchman's Bay. Off Schoodic Head at
/ three; then tie wind fails u.s. faxes all out,
and we roll, swing and jerk in the doldrums.
/ At quarter before four an air strikes from
northeast, but we have no sooner trimmed in
our sheets than it dies away and leaves us to
tbs mercy of choppy sea. Soon the old
| southwest wind creeps over the wave but its
power is broken and it fails to keep the sail
| full against the roll of the sea. At twenty
| minutes past five we make by the iron can
| buoy on Petit Menan reef, the chop cockling
and squirting up in the loosest possible manner,
| and over this drunken sea the Princess stag.
| gers on. Run N. E. by e. A fresh breeze
| strikes 100 colder. Masses of fog sweep in
| but are caught by an upper current over the
land and dissipated. We pass Nash Island
Light at 6,55 and gladly glide out of swing
| ing sea into the smooth waters of Moose-a-bec
L Reach. We nass .Ionesnort and at Saw zers