As I've grown - dare I say it - older, I had hopes of indulging my dreams of being a sailor.
Since the discovery of Columbus, there has been no event of equal importance to the human race.
The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness.
Sailing is necessary, living is not necessary.
I'm a romanticist in many ways. I never get behind the wheel of my boat and dropping the anchor without saying to myself, secretly giving my orders to the crew "All right, lift the anchor, we're on our way to South Hampton. We're gonna beat them there with this load of tea!"
Sailing is a big outlet for me.
Separately there was only wind, water, sail, and hull, but at my hand the four had been given purpose and direction.
Some love to roam o'er the dark sea's foam, Where the shrill winds whistle free.
Those who first cross the Atlantic in a steam-boat will be entitled to a great portion of applause. In a few years we expect such trips will be common ... and bold will they be who first make a passage to Europe in a steam-boat.
I was four when I first stood at the helm on my own.
The fair breeze blew, The white foam flew, And the forrow followed free. We were the first to ever burst into the silent sea.
Everyone knows the best volume of the encyclopedia is the one with ships-S.
Was the crew well? Was I not? I had profited in many ways by the voyage. I had even gained flesh, and actually weighed a pound more than when I sailed from Boston.
In practice, the ocean is the world's wildest place because of both its fearsome natural danger and how easy it is out there to slip from the boundaries of law and civilization that seem so firm ashore.
We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came.
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?
The boat is safer anchored at the port; but that’s not the aim of boats.
Sweet it is, when on the high seas the winds are lashing the waters, to gaze from the land on another's struggles.
For pure joy, I look at a small painting by Arbit Blatas. An ocean liner is at the center of the composition, perhaps ready to depart. It holds the promise of discovery.
I did projects on Champlain coming up the St. Lawrence River and on Henry Hudson cast adrift in the bay that now bears his name. And I read dozens of historical novels: Rosemary Sutcliff on Roman Britain and G. A. Henty on British heroes, though my all-time favourite was Ronald Welch's 'Knight Crusader.'
To be taken into account were some years of schooling, where I studied with diligence Neptune's laws, and these laws I tried to obey when I sailed overseas; it was worth the while.
Aye, aye! and I'll chase him round Good Hope, and round the Horn, and round the Norway Maelstrom, and round perdition's flames before I give him up.
As a child, I always wanted to live on a boat.
I'd love to have a proper sailing boat and go around the world.
Whether by theft or by artistry or by conquest, when it comes to time, Venetians are the world's greatest experts. They bested time like no one else.
