The voyage of the sailing vessel Elusive began in Charleston, South Carolina, on Friday, May 20. Captain Bob Scribner, a past commodore of the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club, and three crew members were onboard Bob’s newly purchased Swan 44 sailboat. Our destination was some 1,200 miles away, at Luke’s Boatyard in East Boothbay. The 25-year-old-boat was outfitted with a new mainsail and jib, a new chart plotter, and a well-tuned diesel engine, among other items.

After we motored down the outbound lane of the Charleston shipping channel past Fort Sumpter in the sweltering heat and humidity, we raised the main. The wind was out of the south-southwest, which meant that hoisting a spinnaker would have been ideal, but, alas, Bob had yet to add that sail to his sail locker.

As a cautionary measure, we installed an accidental gybe preventer on the boom.

In the ocean, the boat was accompanied by porpoises and schools of flying fish. One of them actually flew into the cockpit, landing behind a cushion. The sea, too, was strewn with seaweed as we neared the Sargasso Sea.

As dusk approached, we checked the running lights and discovered that the port bow light was out. It had been checked two weeks earlier. Fortunately, we had spares for all of the lights. At this point, the sea state was not too bad, so we were able to change the light without difficulty.

On Saturday, we watched the moon rise in a clear sky at about 2 a.m., glistening across the ocean. At 3:15 a.m., we witnessed a bright meteorite light up the sky off of our starboard beam. By 4 a.m., the seas began to flatten a bit as the wind began to moderate. At 9:45 a.m., we began motor sailing to respond to the continued easing of the wind. By 1:15 p.m., we dropped the main entirely, deciding to motor to our first waypoint 175 miles away, off of the North Carolina coast.

We enjoyed our first dinner in the cockpit on Saturday, when we decided to alter our course and head into Norfolk to refuel. With our having run the diesel much more than anticipated, we weren’t sure we could reach Cape May, New Jersey or Ocean City, Maryland to refuel. We were careful in plotting a course, though, that would not take us too close to Cape Hatteras, the “graveyard of the Atlantic.”

On Sunday, the wind continued out of the south, meaning that we had to motor all day. As it turned out, we would motor for the remainder of the trip to East Boothbay. We unfurled the jib at 11 a.m. Later in the day, as the wind increased, we had to pull in the jib because we were fish-tailing too much. With the autopilot not functional, manual steering became too difficult.

A humorous realization struck us on Sunday morning. The food in the freezer was thawing, while that in the refrigerator was freezing. Yikes! What we thought was the freezer was actually the refrigerator. We lost some frozen salad greens, but otherwise the mix-up had no impact on our food supply.

We passed the lights of Virginia Beach at about 9:30 p.m., when Boothbay resident Dan Zajdel took the helm. Dan, with the help of two lookouts, and another on the chart plotter, drove the Elusive through the busy Hampton Roads, site of the Norfolk Naval Base and numerous civilian shipping facilities. The channel also had two “sand hoppers,” conducting night time dredging operations, which made the transit even more treacherous.

Dan continued steering until 1:30 a.m. (on Monday), when Elusive reached the mouth of the Hampton River. At that point, Bob threaded the boat through the narrow mouth of that river until we reached the Hampton Yacht Club at 3:30 a.m. Bob had called the club earlier and had secured a slip for our pending arrival. After tying up and connecting 30-amp shore power, we were exhausted.

Monday morning brought some joy around 7:30 a.m., when we learned the punch code to the club’s showers. Those were our first real showers since departing Charleston.

Part of that morning was spent measuring the size of the fuel tanks to calculate their capacity. We compared that to the boat’s manual. We also calculated that we were burning about three quarts of diesel every hour that we ran the engine.

We also refilled the fresh water tanks that morning before walking to Fika’s, in historic Hampton, where we enjoyed an out-sized breakfast.

On Monday afternoon, we moved Elusive to the marina next door, where we refueled and pumped waste. Returning to the yacht club dock, we enjoyed a prime rib dinner at a crowded dining room. (Fortunately, the Hampton Yacht Club has reciprocity with the Boothbay Harbor Yacht Club.) The $10 special obviously was a hit with the members.

Outside of the club was a cannon monument to Edward Braddock, marking the site of the British general’s landing in America in 1755. Readers may remember studying the French and Indian War, when Braddock’s army was defeated on July 9, 1755 on the banks of the Monongahela River, in western Pennsylvania. Braddock himself was mortally wounded. In that army was aide-de-camp Colonel George Washington, who gathered the defeated troops and earned the sobriquet, “Hero of the Monongahela.”

By Tuesday, a storm had formed outside of the Virginia capes preventing our departure. We considered motoring up Chesapeake Bay, exiting via a canal at the north end into the Delaware River, and back around Cape May, but decided that it would require a lot of traveling for relatively little improvement in reaching our ultimate destination. So, we stayed put.

We used the shore time on Wednesday to tinker with the boat’s automatic identification system (AIS), which did not seem to be working continuously, according to our spouses, who were to tracking Elusive on a website. By Wednesday and a trip to the marine supply store, the crew was got the AIS system working all of the time.

Meanwhile, it appeared that the storm would be moving further offshore, enabling us to depart the Hampton Yacht Club the next morning.

On Thursday, we got underway from Hampton at 6:15 a.m. in thick fog and choppy waters. Outside in the ocean, the sea state was better than we had expected. We steered a direct course for our next intermediate destination, Block Island, off of the Rhode Island coast. Winds this day were on our nose at about 20 knots. The fog burned off in late morning, only to roll back in around 4:00 p.m. At 11 p.m., we discovered that we had burned about one quart of oil, so we quickly replaced it.

On Friday, May 27, we were due east of Cape May, continuing to motor directly towards Block Island. It was still foggy, with visibility of about one quarter of a mile. The winds were light. The rest of Friday passed without incident. By late Friday, though, the seas were strengthening as the winds were increased. Little did we know what fate had in store for us on Saturday.

Saturday began with continued worsening conditions. The seas were building and the wind was now at 22 knots, coming off of the starboard quarter. It was raining and while lightening was visible, it was not in the immediate vicinity of Elusive. We were 45 miles south of the eastern tip of Long Island, headed toward Block Island steering on a course of 060 degrees.

Bob and Dan had the watch from 10 p.m. Friday through 2 a.m. Saturday. At 1:48 a.m., with Dan harnessed and at the helm, the diesel engine sputtered and died. Fortunately, the off-duty watch was dressing to assume the watch in twelve minutes and, therefore, was able to quickly respond to the silenced engine.

The off-duty watch ran from the salon where they were dressing, and up the companionway in a flash as lookout Captain Bob shouted, “Unfurl the jib! Unfurl the jib!”

Bob held a flashlight on the block and the winch while the two other crewmen began to unfurl the jib half way. The boat, which had been motoring at 6.5 knots, quickly slowed to a crawl. As it slowed, steerage was lost and the boat began to spin out of control, despite Dan’s best efforts. With the boat not making way, it began to be pounded by the angry sea. After what seemed an eternity, the crew successfully unfurled half of the jib. The boat spun until the jib caught the wind, when we were able to regain speed and hence steerage. We were now out of immediate danger.

Because the wind was off the starboard quarter, we were actually able to continue on our course to Block Island. The wind peaked at 24 knots, which increased our boat speed to 7.0 knots, faster than when we had been motoring.

The two other crewmen returned to the salon to pull the engine cover in an effort to determine the cause of our distress. First, the oil level was checked. No, the oil level was fine.

Second, the fuel level was checked. It was fine, too.

Then, it had to be the fuel filter. No, “clean as whistle,” piped one crew member.

The fuel pump was checked, where again nothing seemed to be amiss.

Upon further reflection, it seems that in the tossing and turning, some air must have gotten into the fuel line.

We cranked the ignition and the crew gave a cheer when the engine restarted. Our joy was short-lived, though, as the engine died a second time after having run for about 30 seconds.

After maybe 20 minutes of further tinkering, we again cranked the engine, whereupon it started. We ran it at a cautious 300-400 rpm, instead of the normal cruising rate of 2,100 rpm. The winds began to decrease to 14 knots, which lessened the choppy seas.

By 5 a.m., we were only 28 miles from Block Island. We were then able to limp into the Great Salt Pond on the western side of Block Island at about noon, where we refueled at Payne’s fuel dock and grabbed a cup of clam chowder before returning to sea at 3 p.m.

We plotted a course up Buzzard’s Bay, through the Cape Cod Canal, and on to East Boothbay. The evening in Buzzard’s Bay was actually pleasant. As dusk approached, we saw a solitary sailboat motor sailing toward the Massachusetts mainland. It was the first and only sailboat we saw the entire trip that had its sails raised.

Traveling at 6.5 knots, we were fortunate that the we were able to enter the canal at approximate low tide. This enabled us to get maybe a knot or knot-and-a-half push through the canal at around 4:00 a.m. As we transited the canal, we passed two southbound tugs that were pushing barges. The canal, though, is somewhat wide, so the tugs posed no issue with us.

Once in Cape Cod Bay, the on-deck watch spotted a whale off of the starboard side. We saw a beautiful sunrise at about the time we were passing Provincetown.

On Sunday in the Gulf of Maine, steering a direct course to East Boothbay of 031 degrees, we saw the best weather and smoothest seas we had seen the entire trip. The wind was a light breeze out of the west, while the sea was so calm, you could have seen a ripple if you had tossed a quarter overboard. Thankfully, too, the intense heat and humidity of Charleston was long gone. We enjoyed the final afternoon of travel in shorts and T-shirts.

As dusk was approaching on Sunday, May 28, we were able to see the dim outline of Sequin Island and Pemaquid Point on the horizon. We plotted our final waypoints to Luke’s Boatyard in East Boothbay, where Bob threaded the boat through a mooring field while the crew held flashlights pointed at boats moored in front of the dock. We tied up Elusive at midnight, ending our journey.

It was one we shall not forget.