Continued from...

This trip unfolded on a warm June day with a gentle northwest wind that would reverse direction later and turn into a brisk on-shore sea breeze. In short, perfect sailing weather. Alex rowed his dinghy out to the sailboat where he tossed his gear, and held the gunwale for Petey. "Go up!" Alex snapped.

Petey leapt into the sailboat and pranced to the bow where his next duty would require holding the mooring pennant and dinghy painter in her teeth until it was time to set sail.

In a few minutes they were rigged.

"Cast off, Petey," Alex called, and Petey spit the mooring lines. The sail thumped as it caught the wind, and off they scooted toward the swirling gulls riding a following wind and outbound tide.

Petey loved to sail, and perched herself eagerly on the stern thwart eager to take the tiller. Alex needed both hands to attach his lure, so he tapped the tiller with his knuckles. "Steady, Petey," and the dog chomped hard on the tiller and held them on course.
They glided into swirls of hungry fish gobbling bait just inches below the surface. Alex hurried to the starboard rail and flung his first cast, his heart racing with excitement. These were big bass, a school of keepers slashing the surface, carving into clouds of menhaden, the damp air thick with the oily scent of savaged bait. Then bang, Alex had a big bass, set the hook, and line zinged out from his reel. Huge, this fish. "Steady, Petey," Alex yelled. "We got a keeper."

Petey was very excited and held the tiller despite surges from the following wind and currents. The boat wallowed, and the wind veered suddenly.

"Pull two," Alex yelped, and Petey pulled the tiller toward her, narrowly averting a dangerous jibe. The gust passed, and the boat now cut to port and heeled, the fish crossing the bow. "Push two," Alex yelled, hoping to avert having to cross his rod around the mast.

Of course, Petey didn't really have any sailing judgment, but he obeyed Alex instantly and precisely. Each number meant increments of four inches in tiller movement off neutral, and Petey always got it right provided that Alex got it right. So off they sailed, that big fish leading them out through the cut into the open ocean where the wind blew across an endless fetch of open sea. This was such giddy fun for Alex, and Petey snapped to every command with a dog's unmitigated joy.

Gradually that big fish grew tired. Alex reeled hard, pulling his rod tip up, then reeling in the slack as he lowered the tip toward the fish. He did this over and over. As they drew closer, the silvery-blue-green striper turned and darted down into deep water. Alex braced his knees on the gunwale, let the fish take some line, then he reeled again as the fish circled back upward. Wow, he thought, he was going to get that fish.

Alex was utterly absorbed when a veering gust hit, and this time the wind yanked the sail around in a vicious jibe. The boom swung hard around, bashed Alex in the back, and flung him into the water.

In only moments he surfaced yelling, "Release, Petey, Release."

Greatly confused, Petey cried frantically but held the tiller.

"Release, Petey," Alex shrieked.

Petey released, and the boat quickly turned to windward and halted in a noisy flutter of sails. But Petey and the boat were already twenty yards downwind and drifting quickly away from Alex. Alex was a strong swimmer for his age, but this was the ocean, the water was frigid, and his lifejacket was still tucked under the bow thwart. "Jacket," Alex yelled.

Petey, still crying, rushed about, then found the lifejacket and spit it over the gunwale, unfortunately on the wrong side of the boat where it drifted even further away from Alex.

Between cries Petey barked wildly at Alex and was about to leap into the water.
"Stay, Petey. Stay," Alex yelled.

Alex was very frightened but knew they were in even graver trouble without the boat. If Petey jumped in the water, the boat would drift quickly away, and Alex and Petey would be pulled out to sea by the wind and tide.

"Sheet 10," Alex yelled.

For a moment Petey stood panting, paws on the rail, ready to leap into the water.

"Sheet 10," Alex yelled again, numbed by the cold water, waves breaking over his back, his arms already feeling sluggish as he tried in vain to swim to the boat.

Finally Petey turned and grasped the sheet line and pulled it against the cam cleat. The blocks squeaked, and the boom moved inward. "Sheet twenty," Alex yelled. "Tiller pull two." Petey obeyed, and the fluttering sail took shape.

Soon, the sailboat was moving again, not a tight course but no longer drifting. Now was the true test: to send Petey away on a tack, then bring her back further upwind and halt so that Alex could swim to the boat. Petey was frantic as the boat tacked further away from Alex. "Sheet five, tiller one," Alex shouted. Petey yanked the sail line, then leapt at the tiller, bringing the boat into a tight upwind tack.

Petey held the tiller in her teeth, her eyes wild with fear and confusion as the boat sailed farther away from Alex. But Petey had learned her obedience lessons well. Do as you're told, despite temptation, and a doggy treat will surely follow.
"About, about," Alex yelled.

Petey pushed the tiller, the boat's bow crossed the wind, and Petey brought her back toward Alex on the opposite tack. Perfect, one of her best ever.

By now Alex was shivering violently. His best chance was getting the boat dead upwind and letting it drift back. With Petey's help he would have a chance, so as Petey tacked above wind and current, Alex yelled, "Release, off sheet."
Petey let go of the tiller and jumped to the sheet line and yanked it off the cam cleat.

"Come, Petey," Alex yelled, and over Petey leapt.

Petey reached Alex quickly but none too soon. Alex hugged her neck, "Go to boat," he gasped, and Petey swam powerfully back to the drifting little sailboat. Alex used his feet as a rudder to guide Petey on a proper angle to intercept rather than in the straight line of Petey's reckoning. The boat drifted into them, and in a great plunge with his tired arms, Alex grabbed the gunwale and dragged himself aboard. He tossed the sheet line to Petey and pulled her out teeth first using the traveler block for leverage.
Alex hugged Petey most of the way back, her warmth bringing them out of their shivers, and as they tacked through the cut, the warm air from land embraced them. And finally Alex remembered to dispense the dog biscuits.

"Did you and Petey catch any fish today?" Pam asked cheerfully that afternoon.

"Almost, Mom. But we had a little trouble. I got this huge, monster fish, and I got the line tangled in my life jacket, so I had to take the jacket off, and when I took one hand off the rod, the fish yanked everything overboard."

"Oh, no," Pam said sympathetically.

"Yeah. And then that fish took off the other way with my life jacket, rod, reel, lure, the whole works, Mom. And he was a keeper, too," Alex said excitedly.

"So, did you get your stuff back?" Pam asked.

"No, Mom. That old fish went the other way. Straight upwind, Mom. By the time we tacked back to where it all happened, we couldn't find anything, could we Petey?"

Petey wagged her tail.

"Oh," Pam said, "That's too bad. I guess you'll have to save your money."

"Oh, come on, Mom, that's no fair," Alex protested. "After all those great dinners me and Petey got for you? Petey thinks you should help us out, don't you, Petey?"

Petey wagged her tail.

"I guess it was kind of a freak accident, and you were wearing your life jacket," Pam said, "Right, Petey?"

Petey wagged her tail.

"Okay, I guess I can help out. So aside from losing your stuff, did you have fun?"

"Great time, Mom," Alex said, squeezing the biscuit in his fist, and Petey wagged her tail.

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Last revised 11-3-2006