I didn’t sail much in July. When I disembarked the Lewis R. French on July 5th, I wouldn’t sail again until boarding the Angelique in early August. During that long month ashore, I spent most of my time writing; getting caught up on the six trips I’d already taken.

In the morning, there is sunshine. The crisp autumn air is trumped by a blast of warm sun, and the American Eagle’s guests stroll the two-lane blacktop toward South Brooksville.

When I boarded the American Eagle yesterday morning, I was nagged by two questions.

It is a cold, rainy October morning at North End Shipyard in Rockland. The Heritage crew has just emerged from their bunks to continue downrigging their vessel for the winter; the Mercantile—the first schooner to board passengers this season—is blocked up on the railway for end-of-season maintenance.

My first order of business this foggy morning is to apologize to Paul Dorr, the captain’s brother and cook. I want him to know that although I personally feel that each member of the Heritage crew is thoroughly awesome, I readily admit their language last night in the Bowdich’s galley was beyond the pale.

Captain Owen Dorr has a lot on his mind. As his Nathaniel Bowditch sails into foggy West Penobscot Bay, the VHF is buzzing with radio traffic—its volume set perhaps a tad louder than usual.

It is a sunny, windless morning in Merchants Row, and the children aboard the Isaac H. Evans begin the day with a swim in the cold waters off Russ Island.

If Captain Brenda Thomas were a public figure she’d have gotten a lot of ink during the past year; checkout aisles from coast to coast would be littered with tabloids bearing her beaming image, and her publicist would log long hours on the telephone confirming or denying scurrilous details of the whirlwind romance with her new beau.

The Isaac H. Evans is ghosting across West Penobscot Bay in light airs under a silvery haze. Off our starboard quarter, we see the Heritage gaining slowly on our position.

It is a cold, wet day. We woke this morning to cloudy skies over Holbrook Harbor, and after an hour-long shore trip to the colonial village of Castine, those skies let loose. The sideways rain that now falls upon West Penobscot Bay has cleared the Angelique’s decks of everyone but crew.