Where the Sand Meets the Sea

By Merrill Phillips

WHERE THE SAND MEETS THE SEA is a collection of sea stories told the author by both his Grandfather, Arthur F. Phillips and Grandmother Emma C. Eledredge, Phillips, whose father was a sea Captain who sailed to the Orient in the middle to late 1800s. The author having a love for the sea includes his own concept of sea stories and poems of what the life of seafaring men and women faced in the days of sail. The author was born and raised in Chatham, Mass.., once not much more than a small fishing village at the end of the days of sail and heard the tales of the sea as told by those who lived them. He also remembers seeing ships of sail pass by Chatham when he was a young child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490737843

Merrill Phillips

Born September 16 1926. Son of Freeman W. and Emma P Phillips, Chatham Mass. Graduated Chatham High School. Served during WW11 in the Army Air Corp as aircraft mechanic .Married in 1949, three children, Lysbeth, Pauline, and Peter. Worked in the plumbing trade for thirty eight years. Had my own plumbing business for fifteen years in New Hampshire. Lived in many different state and now reside in Barton, Mississippi. Have three books published, MY CALLING, TELL ME AGAIN GRAMPA, and PRICE OF FREEDOM. All published through Trafford Publishing. At 87 I have committed to publish seven more books. Being a called writer has been the highlight of my life.

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MERRILL PHILLIPS

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© Copyright 2014 Merrill Phillips.

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ISBN: 978-1-4907-3785-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4907-3784-3 (e)

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CONTENTS

LIGHTHOUSE BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

COTTAGE BY THE SEA

A DAY AT SEA

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A FISHERMAN

FISHERMAN’S HELPER

HELMSMAN’S PRAYER

JOYFUL RETURN

A LIGHTHOUSE

NOR’EASTER AT SEA

RAGING SEA

A SAILOR’S LIFE

A SAILOR’S HOME AWAY FROM HOME

SEAMAN’S PRAYER

A STORM

TIME OF REVERENCE

A TRANQUIL SEA

CAPE CODER

AN OCEAN WAVE

OLD SAILOR’S DREAM

AS A CHILD

THE BEACHCOMBER

A BENCH BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

BEND OF THE RIVER

BEYOND THE DISTANT HORIZON

BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

BY THE WATER’S EDGE

BYGONE DAYS

CAPE COD

THE CAPE

CAPE COD BOYS

COME, SAIL WITH ME

COME, PLAY WITH ME

DANGERS OF THE DEEP

DAYS OF OLD

DEATH AT SEA

DEATH OF A GALLANT LADY

DISASTER AT SEA

FROM OUT OF THE FOG

GHOST SHIP

HOME AT LAST

HOMEWARD BOUND

IN MEMORY OF THE FISHERMEN WHO LOST THEIR LIVES IN PURSUIT OF THEIR CHOSEN PROFESSION

JOYS OF CHILDHOOD

LIFE BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

LONG AGO

LONGING

LONGING FOR DAYS OF OLD

LOST AT SEA

LURE OF THE SEA

MEMORIES

OLD MEMORIES

MEMORIES OF THE DEEP

MEMORIES OF YESTERDAYS

MEN OF THE SEA

MOON CURSERS

MY BELOVED CAPE COD

MY LOVE AND I

NEVER CONTENT

NO OTHER PLACE

ONE DAY

ONWARD

PEACE AND SOLITUDE

PLAYING IN THE SEA

REFLECTIONS OF THE SEA

RETURN TO ME

RIVER OF FIRE

ROLL ON O ENDLESS SEA

SHIFTING SANDS

SITTING BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

SOUNDS OF THE SEA

STANDING ON A HILL OVERLOOKING THE SEA

STILL STAND

STORM TOSSED SEA

SURVIVING AGAINST ALL ODDS

THE LIGHTHOUSE

THE CLAM DIGGER

DEATH OF THE WIDOW MAKER

EDGE OF THE SEA

THE FISHERMAN

LIFE OF THE GRAND BANKS FISHERMAN

SAILOR’S LIFE

LOVE OF THE SEA

THE MARSH

THE OLD CAPE CODER

THE OLD LIGHTHOUSE

THE OLD SALT

THE RIVER

THE SEA

THE SEA AND I

THE SEA IS MY MISTRESS

SHANTY BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

THOUGHTS OF YESTERYEARS

TRIM YOUR SAILS

VENTURING FAR AND WIDE

WAITING FOR ME

WALKING BY THE SEA

WHERE THE SEA MEETS THE SHORE

WONDERS OF THE SHORE

SHIPWRECK OF THE HILDA W.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

This book is dedicated to the following men who lost their lives while fishing out of Chatham, Mass. They were all experienced fishermen who accepted the hazards of the sea as part of their lives. Every time they crossed the bar into the open ocean they knew that it could be their last time to do so, but go they did in the pursuit of the bounty of the deep. They were courageous men who loved the sea and from it earned their living. They joined the ranks of many more fishermen from the Cape Cod area who lost their lives at sea.

Roy Larkin

Archie Nickerson

Leon Long

Clyde Eledredge

Dawson Richards

Willard Nickerson Sr. (Grandfather to my children)

Robert Jones

LIGHTHOUSE BY THE EDGE OF THE SEA

The beam of light that I see winking at me searches the night for ships far at sea and lets them know that they are where they ought to be.

On dark and stormy nights, the old lighthouse brings comfort to all who venture upon the open sea.

Never still, always extending its beam of light for the whole world to see.

The old lighthouse is an answer to a seaman’s payer whenever he is in need.

It never grows weary, nor does it sleep, for without its searching beam of light many a sailor would be lost at sea.

It extends its beam of light as far as the eye can see to comfort just one or many ships that are caught in the grip of a storm tossed sea.

When the moon is full, the searching beam of light is a friend saying hello.

Lovers spoon under its guiding light, catching glimpses of each other’s eyes as its beam of light passes by.

The light of the old lighthouse gives hope to all ships at sea who sees its guiding beam of light in the dark of the night.

As the sun rises, the keeper of the light turns off the beam of light that had shown all through the night.

COTTAGE BY THE SEA

On a stretch of lonely beach sits a cottage with a path that leads to the edge of the sea.

Where the wind bent beach grass leaves its circular marks in the sand.

Shells of the sea line the high water mark, covered with seaweed that hides them from view.

When the storm winds blow, they whip the sea into a foaming mass and drives the salt spray far inland from the shore of the sea.

The wind driven spray beats against the cottage and turns its cedar shingles to a silvery gray.

The sea gulls gliding on the currents of the wind make their way to the shelter of a pond among the trees.

When the storm subsides, they once again return to the breaking seas.

When the rains come, they beat against the windowpanes and drip to the ground.

Here they nourish the roses as they break forth in the spring.

By early summer the cottage is covered with the fragrant smelling roses that all come to see.

The beaches all around come alive with the laughter of the young and the old as they play in the surf as it breaks upon the shore.

From the marsh just behind the cottage comes the song of the redwing blackbirds as they make their nests among the cattails and reeds.

The sound of a hound dog echoes from the far side of the marsh as he chases the rabbit through the bull rushes and thickets that abound.

At night, the sounds of the crickets and the waves as they break upon the shore drift through the open windows and lulls its occupants into a restful sleep.

Children sleep with the thoughts of a new day when once again they can run and play in the tide pools where small sea creatures are trapped between the tides.

At the break of day, the sea birds begin to fly as they herald a new day.

When the rains fall, they can be heard inside that cottage as they pitter-patter on the roof and the sound is conducive to a nap that day.

On the other hand, a trip to town to meander through the gift shops in search for that special item that will bring back memories of that cottage by the sea when the winds of winter blow.

Rest and peace is the order of the day when one stays in that cottage by the sea.

A DAY AT SEA

A day aboard the Sea Princess pampered by the crew is a day that one will not soon forget.

Whether it was strolling the deck or swimming in one of the many pools, all on board relaxed and left their troubles behind.

Lying in the tropical sun aboard ship or on some sandy shore made one dream of pleasures more.

Some afternoons the sea billows rolled and the rain clouds gathered, the ensuing showers sent the sunbathers behind closed doors.

The flying fish flew from wave to wave, momentarily free from the depths of the sea.

Schools of dolphins frolicked like little children, running before us, leading the way.

Cotton puffy clouds scudded across a sky of azure blue, their shadows chasing behind them as they flew.

There were days when the seas ran before the wind and built up high and came crashing down with a thunderous roar.

Small ships caught in such contemptuous seas struggled to stay afloat as they headed for the nearest shore and the protection of a sheltered cove.

When the seas were tranquil and smooth, one could see the jellyfish with their long tentacles dragging behind, drifting with the wind and tide.

The sun reflecting off the water revealed the different shades of blue of the surrounding sea that was dotted with white foam that the winds blew from the tops of the cresting seas.

At the beginning of each new day God painted a beautiful portrait in the eastern sky, the rays of the rising sun radiated colors that bewildered the eyes.

Every day we went ashore on a different island that kept us busy strolling the beaches and seeking treasures in the many shops that lined the way.

With joy in our hearts, we relaxed and had nothing to do but to enjoy the hospitality of the natives who welcomed us ashore and shared with us the beauty of their tropical island, far from the hustle and bustle of home.

With the rising of the moon, our paradise afloat left port and headed for another pearl in the chain of islands that dot the Caribbean Sea.

Like a king and queen we strolled the promenade deck hand in hand, a gentle breeze and a tropical moon stirred a sense of love within.

On our last day with a sigh of regret, we boarded our flight for home and took with us memories of the native people who live a lifestyle far different from our own.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A FISHERMAN

The alarm was ringing and thoughts of, It can’t be time to get up yet, I just went to bed raced through my mind. I had learned long ago to put the alarm clock out of reach so that I would not reach out and turn it off and go back to sleep. I reached out with half opened eyes and turned the light on and at the same time, I checked to see what time it was. The clock read 12:30 am. It finally dawned on me that it was time to rise and shine as I and my partner had a long day ahead of us. About then my wife stirred and said, Please turn that light off so that I can get some more sleep. Obligingly I quickly dressed, shut the light off and went to the kitchen and made myself a pot of coffee. Breakfast would be aboard the boat while steaming to the fish grounds. Putting on my coat I went outside, the air was cool for this time of year, but other than that the sky was clear with the stars twinkling overhead. The wind was calm and it promised to be a good day. There was no hint as to what was going to happen later on that day.

As I was driving to the fish pier, you almost did not need to have your headlights on to see where you were going. My partner Bill was waiting as I pulled up at the pier and we both remarked about what a nice day we had ahead of us. After putting our gear in the dory, we rowed out to the boat, which was riding quietly on her mooring. Noise of other boats with their engines running getting ready for the long day ahead was a familiar sound. After tying along side of the Catharine C, we unloaded our gear along with our provisions for making breakfast. While Bill was putting everything away and starting a fire in the galley stove, I checked the fuel supply and engine oil, being satisfied with both I started the engine and let it warm up before casting free of the mooring.

As we made our way down the harbor the houses along the shore were still in darkness except for one or two that belonged to fellow fisherman who had not as yet left home. We soon approached the harbor entrance and as we passed over the bar, the sea was calm with hardly a ripple on the water. This was unusual as the bar was usually quite rough and a downright dangerous place most of the time. In the past, several fishermen lost their lives while crossing the bar. It is certainly a place to respect when the wind is up and blowing against the tide, but this day it was a danger to no one.

The sky was still clear and the stars were like dancing lights, they were like sparking diamonds in the early morning sky. Once clear of the harbor Bill soon had breakfast ready. This morning it would be pancakes and sausage and it sure did smell good as its fragrance drifted up from the galley.

Our course was almost due east; we had a three-hour steaming time ahead of us so after breakfast Bill stayed below and went to sleep in the bunk while I stayed at the helm. It would be my turn to sleep on the way home. The sea was still smooth with just a long ground swell. The sky began to get light in the east and then it turned red with the approaching sunrise. The old saying red sky at night sailor’s delight, red skies in the morning sailors take warning came to mind. Could there be a storm today? The radio had not said anything about an impending storm. Oh, well as far as I was concerned it was going to be a beautiful day. As the sun rose over the horizon, it was like a ribbon of fire across the water. A sight that was seldom seen, but if you were lucky enough to witness such a sight you just stood in awe of it. It just had to be caused by a higher power than we have here on earth, a sight to behold.

Time seemed to drag with the drone of the engine broken only by the crackle of the radio and an occasional conversation with another fisherman was all that there was to take up the time. About a half hour before reaching the fishing grounds, I called below to Bill and woke him from his sleep. After a cup of coffee, he came on deck and took the helm while I went below for some coffee. After returning to the deck, it was time to slow down and start sounding the bottom to see if we were where we wanted to be. This area had become so familiar to me that after a few sounding I knew exactly where we were in relationship as to where we wanted to be. The sounding lead became our eyes as to where we were. The sounding lead consisted of a five-pound lead weight with a hole in the bottom of it, into which you put grease. When the lead weight hit the bottom whatever was on the bottom sticks to the grease and in this way you can tell what kind of bottom you are over, whether it be sand, mud, mussels, or whatever. This particular fish grounds was covered with mussels. After determining location, we began to set our trawl. We had six tubs of trawl in all and if the fish were here, we should get a good catch.

The trawl is anchored on both ends with buoys and flags on the surface so that you can find them when it comes time to retrieve them. If by chance the trawl parted you can still retrieve both halves. The best fishing comes on the slack of the tide, so you try to time your arrival at the fish grounds to allow time enough before the slack of the tide to set your trawl. Usually by the time, you set your last tub of gear it is time to start hauling the first trawl back.

When we started to haul our gear, the wind had started to blow out of the Nor’east at about five to ten knots. By the time that we had, our last trawl aboard the wind was blowing about twenty-five knots and still breezing. We had a good catch of fish, twenty-five boxes in all. The catch weighted about twenty five hundred pounds which meant that the boat was settled in the water quite a bit more than usual and it also meant that it would take us longer to return to port than it had taken us to reach the fish grounds. I set a westerly course for homeport. By the time we had all of the fish cleaned the wind had increased to thirty-five knots. The seas had built in height to fifteen feet and getting higher as time passed. We picked up another boat on the radio and we rendezvoused and made our way towards port within sight of each other. As we crested the seas we could see for quite a few miles, but when we were in the trough of a sea we could not even see the antenna on the other boat that was just a quarter of a mile off our stern quarter. All you could see was a wall of water all the way around us. The winds had now increased to forty knots and the tops of the seas were breaking just as they do when they break on the shore. When we went down into a trough of a sea, it was like being in a teacup, surrounded by mountains of water with no place to go. The seas were now about eighteen feet in height with foam blowing off the tops of them.

We still had a long way to go to reach port and the safety of Chatham harbor. It made you realize just how small a forty-five foot boat really is. Steering became very difficult because you wanted to go one way and the seas wanted you to go in a different direction. Most of the time I could keep the correct course, but once in a while a sea would take the boat and make it go wherever it wanted it to go regardless of what I tried to do about it. At times when we approached the crest of a sea, the sea would break at our stern and a flood of water would just about flood out the cockpit of the boat. The hatchway and access hatchways in the deck of the boat were secured to prevent the seas from flooding the cabin and engine compartment. It was all we could do to hang on let alone trying to prevent our catch of fish and our fishing gear from being washed overboard. This was supposed to be my turn to sleep, but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind at this point. It took the both of us to keep the boat from coming broad side of one of those mountainous sea and going down in the briny deep. The bilge pumps were working to their capacity because even with our best efforts we could not keep some of the water from getting below deck. Our catch and most of the fishing gear had been washed overboard. It was better to lose the fish and our gear than it would for one or both of us to be washed overboard. It had now become a matter of survival.

The following boat was still holding her position, but with great effort by her crew. The wind seemed to be a little stronger, but at the same time, it seemed to have reached it height. The closer we got to land the bigger the seas became. We had put on our life jackets because when we were in the trough of a sea and started up the next sea the boat would bury her bow deep into the next sea and it would creak and groan as she tried to free herself from a watery grave. There was nothing but green water over top of the cabin and one-half of the windshield had already been broken out and the angry sea filled the cockpit most of the time. When we reached the crest of one of those mountainous seas the boat just seemed to stand still for a few seconds and as she started down the other side the propeller would come out of the water, then the boat would vibrate from stem to stern as though she was being shook by a mighty hand.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we sighted land and we instinctively knew that we would not be able to cross the bar in one piece to the safety of the harbor beyond. This meant that we would have to change our course and go around point rip and into the south bay where the seas would not be as high because of the shelter of the beach. While in contact with the other boat, we notified them of our decision to go around the point and on to Stage Harbor rather than to risk crossing the bar. The answer came back that they too would go to Stage Harbor rather than risk the hazards of the bar. Making just one mistake while crossing the bar in a storm like this would mean sure disaster and neither of us wanted to join our fallen comrades if we could avoid it. The decision to go to Stage Harbor meant about three more hours of steaming time, but even that would be better than facing the hazards of the bar. This would put us in port around dark if all went well.

As we approached the Point, the seas were still running about twenty feet with nothing but white water no matter which direction you looked. Our boat was still taking a beating, but so far, it was not leaking bad enough but what the bilge pump could take care of it. Meanwhile the rest of the fishing fleet had made port without incident. They had not gone that offshore as we had, therefore they