Learning the ropes

Main-mast, Joseph Conrad, Mystic Seaport

Mystic Seaport Village is a living museum on the Mystic River in eastern Connecticut.  The museum memorializes our rich New England maritime history and several restored wooden sailing vessels show us how fishing and whaling and trade were accomplished in the age of sail. The town, famous for Mystic Pizza and its eponymous movie, is situated several miles north of Fisher’s Island Sound and is reached from the sea by navigating a circuitous channel and negotiating several ponderous bridges.

The first, a swing bridge, carries Amtrak trains across the river.  After contacting the bridge operator by radio, the bridge swings open when train schedules allow.  After waiting for one northbound and one southbound high speed Acela to pass, the bridge slowly swings open and we slip though. The next bridge carries busy US Route 1 through the middle of Mystic.  It opens at 40 minutes past each hour – if you arrive late, you must wait.

After negotiating both of the bridges and carefully staying within marked channels (the mud flats are treacherously shallow), we arrive at the Seaport.

The museum features a number of large sailing ships, notably the Charles W. Morgan (a whaling ship built in 1841 in New Bedford, MA), the L.A. Dunton (a fishing smack built in Essex, MA), and the Joseph Conrad (a 111 foot, square rigged training ship). All of these ships share the use of wind power, intricate sails strung from masts and yardarms, hoisted and canted by multitudinous lines.  Knowledgeable docents vividly describe life at sea, the jobs that the crew performed, and how they climbed through the ranks.

On a large capital ship of the late 18^th century, twenty or more sails hung on three masts provided power to the ship. Well over 300 lines were used to control and support the sails, and an able seaman must know all of their names and their functions. These were a combination of halyards (to haul the yards, i.e., raise the sail), sheets (to control sail angle and shape), and stays (to steady the masts). More, there were cunninghams, and vangs, and topping lifts, all used to control and refine sail shape, and hence deliver power to the ship.

In days of sail, the able seamen who mastered the complexity of their ships were the highly skilled workers of their time. They were the equivalent of today’s firemen and engineers who tend the engines of huge container ships and oil tankers.

Rising though the ranks, the sailing ship officers were educated and skilled in the arcane science of navigation.  Charts and sextants and trigonometry were used to ascertain the ship’s position and plot a course to the desired destination. Those mastering these skills were the technology wizards of their time, and handsomely paid.

After several days spent pleasantly reliving our maritime heritage, we fondly bid the Seaport adieu and head down the river.  Early, sun just risen, mist hangs on the water but begins to dissolve as we negotiate the two bridges. But upon reaching the base of the Mystic and entering Fisher’s Island Sound, we encounter a heavy fog, barely able to see the bow from the stern. Time to deploy our modern miracle, an iPhone with a marine GPS navigation app. We creep through the treacherous shoals and reefs, watching the navigational buoys loom from the fog, each on time and in position as predicted by the app. After some time, we emerge into the expanse of Block Island Sound, and the fog eases.

It becomes clear that what was of value then, and now, is knowledge. The able seamen and navigators of the sailing ships were the diesel engineers and Apple programmers of their day. Knowledge and skill must be learned, and earned, and applied to our common good. Anything we can do, collectively or individually, to motivate our children to learn, to enable their academic journey, is the highest good. We, and they, will benefit mightily.