The old flat bottomed clinker built was more then adequate to hall a barrel of fuel oil, it however had seen better days and one of the side planks had split and was now held together with iron rods that did not completely prevent it from taking on water.
It was only a couple of miles if that far to the store so I fired up the small Wisconsin engine, tossed in an empty forty-five gallon barrel and off I went to the Read Island Store and Post Office. I arrived about a half hour later at the Read Island wharf and went up and got Mr. Hill where he was working at the store. He came back with me to the wharf and filled my barrel with heating oil.
After thanking him, I immediately took off for home, but noticed quickly that with the added weight of the full barrel of heating oil, the boat seemed to be taking on water at an alarming rate. I didn’t have a decent bucket to bail with and was doing the best I could with what I had. The bottom line was that I was not keeping up and the boat was slowly sinking. This sent shivers of fear up and down my spine as I realized I did not have a life jacket and the water was very cold.
I was not far from shore and I realized that my only hope was to beach the boat. The nearest place to beach the boat and prevent it from sinking altogether was a beach in front of my friend Ron Lambert’s house. So without any hesitation I made straight for his beach with the throttle wide open and the boat now seemingly filling up with water faster then ever. The timing was miraculous as just as the boat was about to go under, it scraped to a stop on the bottom, and boy did I give a sigh of relief.
My friend Ron, who had seen what was happening from the shore came running down to the beach and gave me a hand. We were able to bail the skiff out and with much effort roll the barrel of oil out of the boat and into the water. As oil is much lighter then sea water the barrel floated so I was able to tie a rope around it and tow it the rest of the way home.
It is fun to look back on the happenings of yesterday and it was only recently that Ron and I were laughing about my efforts to get that barrel of oil home. At the time however, it did not seem like a laughing matter, but the passing of time gives us the freedom to see things in a different light.
It was only a couple of miles if that far to the store so I fired up the small Wisconsin engine, tossed in an empty forty-five gallon barrel and off I went to the Read Island Store and Post Office. I arrived about a half hour later at the Read Island wharf and went up and got Mr. Hill where he was working at the store. He came back with me to the wharf and filled my barrel with heating oil.
After thanking him, I immediately took off for home, but noticed quickly that with the added weight of the full barrel of heating oil, the boat seemed to be taking on water at an alarming rate. I didn’t have a decent bucket to bail with and was doing the best I could with what I had. The bottom line was that I was not keeping up and the boat was slowly sinking. This sent shivers of fear up and down my spine as I realized I did not have a life jacket and the water was very cold.
I was not far from shore and I realized that my only hope was to beach the boat. The nearest place to beach the boat and prevent it from sinking altogether was a beach in front of my friend Ron Lambert’s house. So without any hesitation I made straight for his beach with the throttle wide open and the boat now seemingly filling up with water faster then ever. The timing was miraculous as just as the boat was about to go under, it scraped to a stop on the bottom, and boy did I give a sigh of relief.
My friend Ron, who had seen what was happening from the shore came running down to the beach and gave me a hand. We were able to bail the skiff out and with much effort roll the barrel of oil out of the boat and into the water. As oil is much lighter then sea water the barrel floated so I was able to tie a rope around it and tow it the rest of the way home.
It is fun to look back on the happenings of yesterday and it was only recently that Ron and I were laughing about my efforts to get that barrel of oil home. At the time however, it did not seem like a laughing matter, but the passing of time gives us the freedom to see things in a different light.
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