From The Naval Archives-When Ships Were Made Of Wood And Men Of Steel (Or Maybe The Reverse)

From The Naval Archives-When Ships Were Made Of Wood And Men Of Steel (Or Maybe The Reverse)

Eric Saint James

No question having grown up near the town of Mystic in Connecticut that I learned to love (and fear) the sea, the oceans early. The first house I remember my family living in was at Shady Point, one of the sea lanes for incoming boats and ships. I would endlessly dream that those passing ships, or one of them would take me on some adventure, would attempt to satisfy my urge for wonder. From the age of maybe six I would read whatever was age appropriate about sea-faring exploits. I particularly loved the swashbuckling novels of Walter Jordan and would sit at ocean’s edge dreaming and plotting to get my “first ship”  

Jordan’s novels were centered on the days before steam made sea-travel far less dangerous and time-consuming. Were centered on the wooden ships that I would see down at Mystic Village on display, including a working ship as part of the feel of the place. What intrigued me most those was those fearless tars, sailors, cabin boys not only in managing the feckless seas but defending them and theirs against the bad guys, the slimy pirates whose sole reason for existence seemed to be to loot ships that were carrying cargoes worth some money.

Probably at about fourteen I began to tire of Jordan’s novels since they seemed to then, as I began my literary light explorations, to have been done to a formula (except the changing color of the hair of some maiden who needed saving or some such, land or sea).That was also around the time that I was beginning to get the urge to “go to sea” (aided somewhat by my utter devotion to Ernest Hemingway’s works which seemed more modernly realistic).

My “goal” was to get taken on board that working wooden ship down the Mystic River. When I turned sixteen I applied and got picked to be an apprentice. I was beside myself with joy for once in my young life. Sad to say though, to make a long story short, I “washed out” as they say in the Navy. Despite having been raised in Mystic, having that great love of the sea I had never really been on a boat or ship beyond the Sound, never been in rough waters some distance out. On the third day out we came up against some very rough seas (brought on by the aftermath of some hurricane) and I became utterly seasick. I, the crew, hell even the Captain tried everything to settle me down. Nothing worked and so my short our mother sea career ended in ignominy.