It's another grey and rolling day at the mouth of the Bay of Fundy, where the old but serviceable schooner "Mudcat", out of Saint John, bound down the Eastern Seaboard for warmer parts. The South Head of Grand Manan Island is barely visible as she slides down the troughs, heading into international waters. The crew is international too, and the lucky ones are hunkered down in the fo'csle with a bit of hard tack and grog. One is a retired boatbuilder looking for a change of pace, another a veteran of some U.S. marine agency or another--cain't quite say, but he goes by the name of Kendall, knows his way around the Maine coastal waters. Some are grizzled ancient mariners unknown to me, but they look handy with a marlin spike or a tankard.

And me? Just a New Brunswick farm boy, tired of seeing the south end of a cow goin north, don't care to go to the lumber camps again this winter. Met a fellow down by the wharf in Saint John, Mr West, told him I never had been to sea, he shows me a trick or two with a rope and a cowhorn, next thing I know byes I'm outward bound, scrubbing everything in sight, decks, pots, rails, you name it.

Sure hope these oldtimers will help me get my sea legs, show me and the other landlubbers how to get by. I've read too many books about seafarin...oh jaysus, don't think I should have had the beef stew an hour ago.....

....half an hour later, one of the old fellas tamps his pipe and looks ready to begin telling a tale of his younger days...

Us young rookies are hangin' on his every word, wishing we were as wise in the ways of the world...

....