An old cliché holds that there is a first
time for everything. Less often repeated
is the obvious truth that there is also a last time for everything. I now look back on several last times. Some examples are my last transatlantic
voyage (aboard the Comet in 1983), my
last transpacific voyage (also aboard the Comet,
in 1984), my last voyage as a paid employee (aboard the Kane in 1986), the last time I took the license exams (in Boston in
1984), and my last visit to company headquarters in Bayonne (in 1987).
More recently, I have experienced several
last times in my family life ashore.
There was the last time I rode the train from Boston to the Family
Headquarters in New York to visit my parents, the last time I walked home from
the Mineola station, the last time I brought flowers to my mother, the last
time I showed Mom pictures of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, the
last time I bid my parents farewell when returning to New Hampshire, and so on.
We also made a last voyage. When my now-widowed father decided to leave
the old family home and relocate to an assisted living facility here in Nashua,
Miss Patty and I returned to New York to get him. On Wednesday, August 15, 2018, he made what
will likely be his last voyage aboard ship.
At 12:00 noon that day the three of us along with Bradley, the dog,
sailed from Orient Point, Long Island, to New London, Connecticut, aboard the Cape Henlopen.
As a young man in the 1940s, my father
had sailed on troopships across the Pacific and back. He traveled in less-than-luxurious
accommodations to less-than-idyllic destinations and was happy to simply return
to the United States unscathed. In his
middle years, he skippered the family sailboat Justine along the South Shore of Long Island. More enjoyable and much safer than his treks across
the Pacific, these happy times yielded many fond memories and formed the basis of
my own interest in the sea. Later, on
summer vacations, he crossed the Delaware Bay several times aboard the ferries
of the Delaware River and Bay Authority fleet.
Still later in life, my parents made numerous sailings on the Cross
Sound fleet to visit their grandchildren in New England. Today’s voyage aboard the Cape Henlopen would serve as a fitting
capstone, perhaps a grande finale, to a long family tradition.
We boarded the Cape Henlopen about fifteen minutes prior to her scheduled
departure time and ensconced ourselves in a comfortable spot with a good view
on the port side promenade deck. The
meteorological conditions were perfect for making a voyage: a clear blue sky
with bright sunshine, excellent visibility, a very light breeze, a mild
temperature, and a calm sea. The “beauty
of the earth”[1]
indeed! My father took in the
magnificent view of Gardiners Bay and the Orient Point beach with obvious
delight. At the appointed time, the
whistle blew and the Cape Henlopen
backed easily away from her berth and set sail for New London.
For the next hour and a half, our little
family, and my father in particular, savored the gentle motion of the Cape Henlopen through the water. As she accelerated away from the dock at
Orient Point the Susan Anne
arrived. The two vessels passed
starboard to starboard, and then the Susan
Anne eased into the berth that the Cape
Henlopen had just vacated.
Proceeding eastward, the Cape
Henlopen came abeam of the Plum Gut Lighthouse and then turned to port to
transit the Gut and come out onto the more open water of Long Island
Sound. The Connecticut hills stood out
clearly in the distance as the Cape
Henlopen now turned onto a more northeasterly heading. Next the Jennifer
C and shortly after her the Mary
Ellen came into view as they sailed in the opposite direction toward Orient
Point. To the northwest, close to the
Connecticut shore, the Coast Guard buoy tender Juniper[2]
lay stationary as she serviced aids to navigation.
The Cape
Henlopen sailed on steadily past Plum Island and across the deep blue water
of the open Sound. As she did so, we ate
a light lunch and recalled that five generations of the family have now sailed
on this great ship. As we discussed this
and remembered previous voyages, Bradley made friends with several of the other
passengers and their dogs. He was the
first family pet to sail aboard one of the ferries, and he seemed to like it
very much.
Soon the New London Harbor Light at the
mouth of the Thames River came into view, and then the John H came downstream and passed the Cape Henlopen close by to port.
It was a busy day on the water! Too
quickly—and these voyages are always too short—the Cape Henlopen proceeded up the Thames and slowed for her approach
to the docks in New London. Shortly
after 1:30pm, it was time for us to disembark.
This was an especially bittersweet moment. My father had enjoyed his voyage aboard the Cape Henlopen tremendously. But we all knew, as we continued our journey north
to Nashua and the assisted living facility, that at age 96 he would in all
likelihood not return to Long Island again. Thus, there would be no more
voyages aboard the Cape Henlopen or
any other vessel. Shakespeare expressed
it very succinctly:
I
shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here
shall I die ashore.[3]
Very
sad, but time had marched on, and we could not turn it back.
Happy memories of the bygone time remain,
though, and some bright future still lies ahead. Far from being isolated in a geriatric
infirmary, the family patriarch now resides comfortably in a state-of-the-art
facility with a home-like atmosphere close to a son, daughter-in-law, and
grandson. Furthermore, with the long
range capability of the cell phone, he receives regular updates from and
photographs of other grandchildren and great-grandchildren in Brazil and
Alaska. These family ties, both in
person and electronic, dispel the melancholy of loneliness with the happiness
of companionship, and prove the proverb, “As cold waters to a thirsty soul, so
is good news from a far country” (Prov. 25:25).
Photographs of the Cape Henlopen, her fleet mates, and landmarks along their route
abound in our family’s collection. I’m
pleased to share some of them here:
 | |
| The New London bound Cape Henlopen as seen from the Orient Point bound John H on Tuesday, June 21, 2016. The fresh coat of paint really stands out against the gray sea and sky. |
 |
| The Cape Henlopen coming up the Thames River to New London, seen from the outbound John H on a bright and sunny Wednesday, August 17, 2016. |
 |
| Bradley aboard the Cape Henlopen just prior to departure from Orient Point on Wednesday, August 15, 2018. All subsequent pictures are from this voyage. |
 |
| The Plum Gut Lighthouse with Orient Point in the background. |
 |
| The Orient Point bound Mary Ellen passing the Cape Henlopen port-to-port just north of Plum Island. |
 |
| The Juniper servicing aids to navigation on Long Island Sound with Connecticut in the background. |
 |
| New London Harbor Light at the mouth of the Thames River. |
 |
| The John H leaving New London for Orient Point and passing the Cape Henlopen port-to-port. |
[1] Folliott S. Pierpoint,
“For the Beauty of the Earth,” in Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of
Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day
Saints, 1985, p. 92.
[2] The Juniper (WLB-201) has an interesting but sad history. She participated in the recovery operations
of Trans World Airlines flight 800 in 1998 and EgyptAir flight 990 in
1999. Finally, she assisted in New York
immediately following the terrorist attack of 2001. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USCGC_Juniper_(WLB-201).
[3] The Tempest, II:ii:44-45.
No comments:
Post a Comment