The Storm and the Whale

"All right boys," their parents said. "What's the story."

"We shouldn't have gone out," Jamie said.

"Ah, it was a nice day when we left," Billie added.

Their 18 foot day sailor was a perfect example of a boat that should stay ashore when "small craft warnings" are flying. They were that morning.

"It's just three miles across Fisher's Sound," Billy argued. "We can anchor and swim ashore for some ice cream."

Billie often talked Jamie into his adventures.

With increasing wind, they reached West Harbor in record time. Walked to the ice cream shop. Took some time to choose what to get from the many flavors. Leisurely enjoyed the cones in the village park.

When they got back to the harbor, dark clouds raced across the sky. White caps formed in the Sound.

"We can beat it," Billie guaranteed.

And they might have if the wind hadn't changed direction, forcing them out of Pine Island Channel, West into the primary New London Channel.

"The storm is getting worse," Jamie hollered.

"Reef the sail," Billie responded. At least one wise move that day.

Even the reefed sail was too much, so they dropped it completely. The wind driven rain cut visibility to a few dozen yards.

"Behind us," Jamie screamed. "A whale is going to eat us."

"That's no whale," Billie screamed back.

"And it wasn't," Billie explained to their parents. "It was an attack sub from the base headed back into port."

"You're lucky it didn't run you down," Mother snapped at them.

"Our real luck," Jamie responded, "was one of the gun boats that escorts them came along side, and towed us back to the dock."

"Another exciting boating adventure," Billie concluded.

Mother rolled her eyes, and shook her head, but Dad couldn't quite hide a slight smile.