Deal Island, Labor Day Weekend- Part II- Sinking Skipjack

For over 30 years now, I have watched the annual Labor Day Skipjack Races as a land-lubbing spectator.  I’ve always wanted to see it from the water, and I’m not really sure why I never have.  This was the year all that changed.

My friend, waterman Captain Danny Benton extended an invitation to my son Blair and I to join him on his workboat.  This was an opportunity I couldn’t resist.  Danny is a highly skilled captain, evident even in the marina by the effortless manner in which he whipped his 72-year old workboat in and out of the slip.  We launched from Wenona at 8 AM, accompanied by his friend and first mate Mo Bussinck, Mo’s parents, brother, and her brother’s girlfriend.  And a nice laid-back crew it was.  No surprise, the wind was whipping at 20-25 knots from the south, resulting in 4-5 ft waves as the wind opposed the tide.  After heading north to the Deal Island harbor, Capt. Danny was summoned by phone to provide a tow to skipjack “City of Crisfield”, piloted by his uncle and oldest skipjack captain, Art Daniels, a.k.a. “Daddy Art”.  It was an honor to just be a passenger as we pulled the skipjack out of harbor, past the bagpipe player giving it all he had.

I had always wondered exactly how the race worked.  From land, it often appeared as a haphazard tangle of skipjacks scurrying in every direction.  Once explained by Capt. Danny at sea, it all began to take form and to make sense..  Running with the wind, the boats initially made quick time to the first turn.  After making the turn and now facing the steady heavy wind, things quickly got interesting.  Powered only by sail, these working craft, all 11 (actually 14 were afloat) racers were forced to tack in order to gain ground.  The various skipjack captains chose different strategies for this section of the race.  City of Crisfield held a decent lead through the first turn and then for awhile longer, but was overtaken on his way to et 2^nd turn at Wenona.  Eventually, Daddy Art’s sail developed a tear, and we were treated to him singing over the marine radio as he withdrew from the race.

As we accompanied the leading skipjacks rounding the 2^nd turn, Capt. Danny noticed one of eth skipjacks, “Kathryn” sitting low to the water and speculated from a distance that it was taking on water.  A quick approach to Kathryn confirmed the Captain’s fear.  Not only was Kathryn taking on water, she was quickly sinking.  The recreational crew of perhaps 20-25 head had not discovered the leak until it was too late.  Their bailing efforts were quickly outpaced by the rapid on-take of water.  As Captain Danny maneuvered us closer to Kathryn in order to provide more buckets, 1^st Mate Mo had the brilliant idea to place a call directly to Deal Island fireman Ryan Evans to bring a powerful pump out to the sinking skipjack.  And now, waiting for the arrival of Ryan and the pump seemed like an eternity.  The Kathryn grew closer and closer to the water’s surface, and she began to unload some of her elder passengers to other Deal Island workboats which had flanked her for support. 
I felt nearly helpless in this situation, realizing that my efforts would have to be focused in praying for the safety of the skipjack and her crew.  And as I prayed, I was relieved to see the pump arriving.  The fire department boat was just in time.  After about 20 minutes of pumping, it was clear that the pump was making headway in ridding Kathryn’s hull of saltwater.  Captain Danny continued to accompany Kathryn to the harbor’s approach.  I can attest to the fact that, had it not been for the quick thinking of Mo, this story would have had an ugly ending.  A call to 911 rather than   directly to Ryan would have cost precious time, likely more than Kathryn had to spare.

I am so grateful for Captain Danny having us aboard for this race.  Even without the near sinking, this was an experience I will forever remember.  And I hope that it won’t be my last race to view from sea.  But I do hope that it will be the last one in which I witness a skipjack almost sink.