Thirty Years with Sail Training

[Peter A. Mello]

This is an essay I wrote that appeared in the 15th edition of Sail Tall Ships! A Directory of Sail Training and Adventure at Sea published by the American Sail Training Association.
As legend has it, in April of 1973, Barclay Warburton III and a few like-minded Newport maritime leaders met in the aft cabin of his brigantine Black Pearl to sign the articles of incorporation for the American Sail Training Association. The rest is history retold elsewhere in this book.

Right about the same time that the founders of ASTA were meeting to chart the organizations future course another meeting was taking place around a kitchen table in Fairhaven, MA. Although this meeting was not at all significant to the future of sail training, it had a profound impact on a single life: mine.

At dinnertime one evening my parents presented to me the idea of attending a local private school, Tabor Academy. They discussed the benefits and opportunities of this experience. Besides being an outstanding academic institution, Tabor, known as the School by the Sea due to its picturesque location on Buzzards Bay in Marion, MA, had a long tradition of offering a wide range of nautical related studies and activities. The decision rested entirely with me and several days later I told my parents that I would like to try it out.

Fast forward several months to the first day of school and I am sitting with 300 other boys in Hoyt Hall for orientation. Being predominantly a boarding school, participation in after class activities, with emphasis on athletics, was required. I sat there pondering a list of all of the fall options: football, soccer, tennis, sailing, crew, etc. For some reason, another option kept attracting my attention: the square topsail schooner Tabor Boy.

I was vaguely familiar with the Tabor Boy because my father dropped more than a few hints that sailing on a ship this size would be a unique, interesting, and fun thing to do. I sat there nearly paralyzed by the choices. I was a bit of a jock and loved the competition of sports, but I also felt that my parents were sacrificing in order to send me to Tabor and that I should give consideration to my dads suggestions. Time to make a decision was ticking away and I was feeling very conflicted. The proctor approached my row and I was forced to tick a box on the form and hand it down the aisle. From thirty years distance this was one of the most significant decisions that I have made in my life.

The next afternoon after class I headed down to the waterfront boat shop to meet the schooner crew and go out to the vessel. While other students were being issued cleats, shoulder pads, and practice jerseys, the schooner crew received army navy surplus work coats, blue jeans, denim shirts, and rigging knives. This was the first indication that this experience was going to be very different than that which most of my fellow students would have over the next four years.

After receiving our uniforms, about 10 of us walked down the pier to a waiting launch called the Bunker Hill. We weaved our way through the mooring field past the Tabor fleet which included small recreational boats, 420s, Tempests, Shields, a Seawind ketch conveniently named Seawind, a schooner named Serendipity and another larger schooner named Landfall. Next we passed the beautiful yachts moored off of the Beverly yacht club. Finally in the distance lay Tabor Boy. As we approached, her masts and spars rose impressively up into the sky. Never having seen her before, she was much larger than I anticipated.

Once along side, we were greeted by several men who welcomed us aboard. After a brief tour and orientation, we were immediately put to work. New to the vessel, I was handed a piece of 60 grade sand paper, pointed to a spot on the bulwarks, instructed in technique and left to my own to perform my assigned task.

Responsibility and Respect

In the years that I was aboard (1973-1977), the skipper of Tabor Boy was Captain George Glaeser, a master mariner and ASTA Lifetime Achievement Award winner; the rest of the crew was made up entirely by student sail trainees. All maintenance and operations including sail handling and navigation, with the exception of bringing her along side a dock or mooring, were conducted and supervised by students. The peer leadership model was employed. Students that came aboard with no experience were put to work sanding, scrapping and chipping the iron bulwarks. Once that was mastered, they would graduate to painting, varnishing and working on the rigging. Similarly crew would move from bow watch to helmsman to assisting with navigation. Finally, with solid experience, a proven record of achievement and an understanding of and respect for the operations of the vessel, students would become responsible for instructing and supervising others.

The Tabor Boy could accommodate twenty two trainees; cuts were rarely made and interestingly, those who signed up rarely dropped off. Freshmen and sophomore students served as deckhands. There were two experienced junior officer positions: foretopman and bosun. The rest of the officer corps (first lieutenant, navigator, engineer, and commissary officer) was populated by seniors. Finally, the executive officer was elected by his peers at the end of the prior school year, appointed all of the officers, was responsible for all operations of the vessel and reported to the captain.
Of course, this extracurricular activity was not for everyone; it entailed lots of hard work and plenty of rules, two things that are generally avoided at all costs by youth between 13 and 18 years of age. However, sailing a square topsail schooner offered real adventure and challenges. It also created a powerful camaraderie and respect among shipmates.

Confidence and Pride

In 1976, Tabor Boy participated in the Tall Ships race from Bermuda to Newport. Many of the vessels were participating in a series of races circumnavigating the Atlantic Ocean. We joined the rest of the fleet to race the Bermuda to Newport leg and to participate in the subsequent American port Bicentennial Celebrations.

During my upcoming senior year I would become executive officer, but during this trip I was foretopman as well as the 12 to 4 watch officer. On the way down to Bermuda in the middle of the night, but before my watch, the topsail came partially unstopped. As the foretopman, my responsibility was to send crew aloft to perform routine sail handling tasks but in this case it was clearly not a job to delegate. It was pitch dark and rainy and the sea state was rough so I slowly made my way up the ratlines past the course yard and up to the topsail yard. Never had the phrase one hand for yourself, one for the ship meant more to me. As the vessel violently pitched through the waves, I edged out to the end of the yardarm to fasten the undone stops. Once done I slowly and deliberately returned to the ratlines where I made my way back down to the deck.

Now nearly 30 years later, I can recall the above scene as though it was yesterday. Although the conditions were incredibly challenging, I was not afraid or even nervous. My prior experience and training had prepared me for just this type of assignment which I approached with confidence and determined focus. I had a job to do and I did it professionally.

Professional and personal pride was another hallmark of service aboard Tabor Boy, as the schooner was sailed and maintained at the highest standards. Prior to entering port, sails were harbor furled, lines coiled and brass always polished. We were proud of all of our hard work when visitors came aboard and never more so than during the father and son weekend cruises that took place each year. The ship was ours and for the first times in our young lives we were in positions of responsibility where we could teach our dads a thing or two. This was incredibly empowering. Whether standing bow watch, taking the helm or going aloft, we were the teachers and our fathers were the students. (Wellthere was one exception: Barclay Warburton III, the owner and captain of the brigantine Black Pearl and founder of the American Sail Training Association, whose son Peter was one of our shipmates.) These cruises created a unique and powerful bonding opportunity between fathers and sons.
Perspective and Humor

There is a special language aboard a ship and learning it can be challenging yet fun. As an incentive, Captain Glaeser created an Un-nautical Kitty as a teaching device so each time someone said something un-nautical, such as downstairs or bathroom, they would place $0.10 in the pot which would be used for special occasions. While it usually didnt take long for trainees to learn the language, father and son cruises proved to be especially bountiful.

Life at sea is not always filled with adventure and that was another important lesson learned aboard Tabor Boy. In the 1976 race from Bermuda to Newport, the fleet was becalmed for three straight days. The sea was so smooth that at night the stars would reflect perfectly off the surface of the water. The weather was extremely hot so many of us tried to sleep on deck; however, an imperceptible ocean swell made this nearly impossible as the sails and rig would slowly but noisily crash from one side of the vessel to the other. Everything creaked and if you were finally able to fall asleep, chances were that youd be awakened by the stray flying fish which would find its way into your sleeping bag.

Three days with no wind; something had to be done or we would all go crazy! While nobody dared to anger the wind god Rasmus by whistling, we decided that we might be able to gain his attention by building a special ceremonial wind hat and performing a ritual on deck. With aluminum foil, a few used paint brushes and some old line, we created ventus couture for the high seas and one of the crew paraded around deck to the percussion of every pot and pan aboard. The next day the wind came in a big way and we ended up going over 12 knots and nearly taking a knock down! In retrospect, somebody probably whistled. So the next time we had to stir up some wind we decided to stay away from Rasmus and we created our own folly, Baggywrinkleman.

Oh Lord, thy sea is so great and my ship is so small. To me, the preceding line from an ancient mariners prayer captures the power a deep-water sailing experience has to lend perspective to a young life. Sail training builds self confidence at the same time that it creates an appreciation of ones place on board the ship and in the larger world. This experience teaches extremely valuable lessons that can be effectively transferred to other situations later on in life.
In 2004, Tabor Boy will turn 90 years old and remarkably she will enter her 50th year providing Tabor students powerful educational and character building experiences. She was one of the original ASTA member vessels in 1973 and I am proud to have been aboard her during those formative years. While her programs may have changed a number of times over the years, the experience of going to sea has not. Her influence over the thousands of young people who have been privileged to sail aboard her is profound and undeniable.

Personally speaking, I look at my time aboard Tabor Boy as a significant transition point in my life. The first day I was welcomed aboard I was boy of 13 and four years later I was a young adult prepared for all the challenges of life that were ahead of me. By the time I left Tabor Boy, I had become one of those men who had welcomed me aboard my first day four years earlier.

Tabor Boy is only one of the nearly 300 ASTA member vessels that offer powerful experiential education programs. Many ASTA member vessels also provide opportunities to get involved in expeditionary adventure travel, historic representation, environmental awareness and advocacy, and scientific and oceanographic research. There are opportunities for youth of all ages from grade school field trips to Elderhostel programs. There is no excuse not to sail, so get aboard!