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To: abcdunlimited@hotmail.com, ijoss@larkom.net, RCA001@juno.com
Cc: friedmsa@UCBEH.SAN.UC.EDU, HOWGLAD1@juno.com, Wallace171@aol.com,
SCHAF25440@aol.com, barmur@aol.com
Subject: Triangle Fins In Coeckles Harbor
From: lance2@juno.com (Lance Martin) Save Address Block Sender
Date: Sat, 25 Oct 1997 11:28:23 EDT
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“Lance, stay there, Sharks!” Edythe screamed from the cockpit of
our cruiser.
“Sharks! Sharks! Watch my kids,” Jack shouted from his boat which
was tied up to mine. Turning to Edythe he pleaded, “Tell him I’m not
joking. Tell him.”
“Sharks! Sharks!” they yelled in unison and pointed to tacking,
triangle sails. Four black fins maneuvered around the two anchored
boats. With five frightened young boys on the beach in Coeckles Harbor,
we watched the fins slice through the water..
Within the jaws formed by the North and South Forks of Long
Island nestled Shelter Island. Our boats were anchored together in
Coeckles Harbor in Shelter Island. The vacation we had looked forward to
resulted in an unforgettable adventure.
It was noon when with my wife and three sons I left Freeport and
pushed through an incoming tide at Jones Inlet, and into a choppy sea.
To save time, I elected to take the ocean run to Shinecock Inlet instead
of the slow, shallow, meandering inside route. The seas were building up
as the twenty six foot Steelcraft pounded its way to the east through
foam topped waves. Hours later, I passed Fire Island Inlet and pressed
on. I soon regretted not have taken that passage way to calmer waters.
Spray was thrown over the cabin top each time the bow buried into the
oncoming waves. The boat’s steel hull was transformed into a huge drum
as pounding seas beat a frightening, erratic, and resonant tempo in our
ears. I had my family put on life jackets and remain in the stern
cockpit. I did not want them to be trapped inside if the boat capsized.
The boys thought it was fun and shouted with glee at the boat’s roller
coaster motion. Edythe noticed my concerned look but managed to smile
The skies became more ominous as the small craft labored on its heading.
The single engine Nordberg throbbed steadily offering me some reassurance
that it would not fail. Rain started to fall and pelting drops hit us
but I forbid them to seek shelter in the cabin..
Three hours later, the welcome sight of Shinecock light and jetty
materialized faintly in the distance. It was a welcome sight, a symbol
of safety in heaving seas, flying spray, and torrential rain. The inlet
was boiling white and turbulent. Desperation made me evaluate the risks
as I cautiously steered through the inlet’s dangerous conditions.
Somehow I managed to avoid broaching in the hazardous following seas and
I made a safe passage into the sheltered waters of Shinecock Bay. Wet
and tired, I followed the buoys to the entrance of Shinecock Canal. The
locks were open. In the dark drizzle I went through them and I securely
tied up at the public docks. We nibbled cold food and went to sleep in
wet bunks as the full fury of the storm erupted.
For two days the wind and rain lashed us as our sturdy craft
lashed to dockside cleats, strained against the elements. There was no
dockside power and to save the battery, I used a kerosene lantern for
light. The propane stove permitted us the luxury of hot meals. I had no
ship radio only a small dry cell radio permitted some contact from the
outside world.
On the third day the storm passed and the sun shone in a
cloudless sky Bruce, my eldest son, an adventurous twelve year old, took
his brothers on a crabbing adventure. Later they returned with a pail
full of blue claw crabs. Edythe prepared the crabs for lunch while I
checked .the supplies, and the boys were playing with new found friends.
A tall man appeared on the dock looking for his boys. He
introduced himself as Jack King as he came aboard. We chatted. He had
been in boating for many years while I was a novice. Before the war I
owned a kayak and a clinker built seventeen foot open boat powered by a
Sears 2 1/2 horsepower motor. The Polaris, as I named the Steelcraft, was
a 26 ft., single engine, steel hulled boat built in 1949. It was my
first large inboard powered boat I owned. Jack spoke about his cruise
plans and invited us to visit his boat after lunch. With his boys he left
for his boat which was docked near us. It was the beginning of a long
boating friendship.
Jack was on vacation with his wife, two sons, and a six month old
daughter. The next day I followed him through Peconic, Noyak and
Gardiners Bay to Coeckles Harbor. We anchored and tied up together west
of Sungic Point. It was scenic and peaceful with Rams Head on one side
and the wooded preserve on the other. High above an osprey soared in a
serene sky, gulls performed aerial ballets around us while sandpipers
danced along the tide marks on the shore.
The boys were anxious to go ashore, tired of playing on the boats
or swimming around the anchored vessels. It was impracticable for all of
us to go ashore to the island’s beaches. Edythe had gashed her foot
before leaving Shinecock and it was swollen and festering. Jack’s baby
had a diaper rash. Edythe eased her pain by sitting on the boat’s diving
platform and cooling her oozing, throbbing foot in the cool harbor water.
At times she held the laughing baby and dipped its raw bottom in the
soothing waters. We decided after supper, Jack would remain with the two
women and the baby on the anchored boats while I went ashore with the
boys.
Edythe prepared hamburgers on a large aluminum grill. Since fresh
water was in limited supply, I devised a way to wash the blood and grease
from the grill. I had used this method before and always with good
results. Tied to a line I would lower the bloody, greasy grill to rest on
the sandy bottom, where the boats, swinging at anchor would scour the
grill clean. With the minimum of effort, hours or overnight scouring of
utensils in this manner provided us with impeccably clean and shining
utensils.
Both boats carried dinghies which we lowered into the water. The
tide was unusually high and the sediment stirred up by the storm had made
the waters murky. It was still light when Bruce in one dingy, and I in
the other, rowed the boys ashore. s soon as the dinghies were beached,
the boys ran off to play. I removed a bag of marshmallows and cookies
from a sack I brought with me. While waiting for the boys to tire of
playing and join me, I made a driftwood fire. I wanted to help make this
boating vacation a very memorable occasion.
Dusk was beginning to fall when the boys returned. After
toasting marshmallows we prepared to return to the anchored boats. I
pushed the two dinghies into shallow water and then called the boys. I
was steadying the dinghies in the knee deep water when a dark torpedo
shape sliced through the water a few yards in front of the dinghies.
Simultaneous with that came the warning screams.
I staggered back and scampered up the beach, then returned and
standing in toe deep water I nervously eyed the water as I leaned forward
to pull the dinghies safely up on the beach. Astern of the anchored boats
I saw deadly dorsal fins. I shuddered thinking of five young boys
floundering around upset dinghies amidst a school of sharks. I imagined
the boys being eaten and torn to pieces in a feeding frenzy of sharks. I
then remembered the grill with the bloody fat creating an olfactory trail
that attracted sharks. I yelled to Edythe and Jack to pull the grill out
of the water and not to discharge the heads or dump food scraps or diaper
wastes in the water..
Night fell and we were stranded on the beach. All of us wore
swim trunks and we were cold. I turned the dinghies over and propped up
one side. That created two small lean-tos and I made the boys crowd into
the improvised shelters. All night, to keep the boys warm, I kept small
fires going in front of the upturned dinghies. I paced the beach, unable
to sleep, and kept a steady conversation with the worried parents aboard
the anchored boats. Occasionally Jack would flash his spotlight on the
dark waters, and on occasion we would spot a sinister dorsal on the
surface of a sleek shape drift below the surface. It was a discomforting
night for all.
Dawn emerged. Unbroken water mirrored the coming day. The
baby’s wailing was chorused by the sea birds winging about. Jack slowly
slacked off both anchor lines until the boats were within a hundred yards
of the rocky shore. It was low tide and the nearest the boats could
approach without grounding Nothing was visible on the surface of the
water. Nothing ominous. A seagull glided down to settle on the placid
surface. I watched the bird, expecting it to disappear into gnashing
jaws or take off in startled flight from some hidden danger beneath the
surface of the water. It floated safe and serene.
I moved both dinghies into the shallows. Putting my eldest boy,
Bruce, and Jack’s oldest boy in one dingy, I loaded the three small boys
in my dingy. I instructed Bruce to follow me, cautioning him to row
without bringing his oars out of the water or splashing. We rowed slowly
over what seemed an interminable distance until arrived safely and
climbed aboard the boats..
It was a glad reunion and Jack’s joking made light of the
situation. He teased Edythe for having dangled her foot in the water.
He laughed as he described her pulling up her leg minus a foot. He
sobered when I described the sight of pulling half his daughter from the
water. We all sobered up. None of us would forget that frightening
adventure.
Edythe was feverish and her foot throbbed. Pulling anchor we
went into the inner harbor to a gas dock. I induced one of the dock crew
to drive us to a doctor. On the way I learned of the selfish attitude of
communities that thrive on summer visitors. I related the shark incident
to the driver who denied that sharks ever came to the island. At a
nearby pharmacy where I had Edythe’s prescription filled, I again tried
to relate the shark incident to the druggist and two customers. They
belittled the story saying I was joking or mistaken. With subtle
suggestions, they said I was in error and that I should not talk about it
- to anyone. At the dock, Jack found similar reactions and was warned
not to spread rumors.
A few weeks later, Ken Denston, a master mariner and friend, had
been cruising the Sound and stopped at Shelter Island. He related how he
had come across a propeller mangled white shark on Coeckles Harbor beach.
As he watched a town truck and wrapped the shark in a plastic tarp and
hoisted it onto the truck and carted it away. He also had the experience
of residents telling him that there were no sharks ever reported in the
vicinity. I noticed that the boys examine the water in the bath tub
before they step in to take a bath. I do the same.
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