One Boot Jackson

12/10/94 Lat. N 21 00.0  W 63 30.0' En-route to VirginIslands

The days passed by as waves under our keel as we sailed en route to the Virgin Islands. This part of the trip was as soft as the trip to Bermuda had been hard. One afternoon, while I was on watch and steering the boat just for the fun of it, I began to think of the first boat we had — El Marinero.

Although designed to be a ketch, she turned out to be a yawl, mainly because the West Indian boat builder had only built sloops and had no idea about mast placement for a ketch.

With pine planking and Santa Maria frames and keel, she was built under an almond tree in Coxen Hole on the Island of Roatan, Honduras, back in 1965. Captain Freddy, who built her without the use of any power tools, was 83 years old. His friend Captain James, who sewed the sails for her, was much the same age. Captain James had lost most of the four fingers of his left hand, yet he had sewn beautiful sails.
I asked Captain Freddy how Captain James had lost his fingers.

"We were sailors then and workin' on a clipper carrin' grain from Australia. I tell you it was the roughest trip I ever made round the Horn. We was homeward bound from Australia with a hold full of grain. The weather had been fearsome. It was so cold and snowy that our beards froze solid on our faces, and the waves were a steady thirty feet with some forty and even fifty feet high. The wind was howlin' and screaming through the rigging and the deck was always awash. We couldn't do no work except to trim the sails. Sometimes when we were at the leeward sheets a wave would board us and we all grabbed for a hold on, or we'd been washed over.

"Me old shipmates, which had sailed together for three voyages, was together on this trip and were on the port watch with me. There was poor Jim, what we now call Captain James, who was short and scraggly, but with a fine sense of humor, strong as an ox. And Tom, who could beat everyone to the maintop if challenged. And 'One Boot' Jackson.

"One Boot got his name 'cause he only had one boot. He'd lost t'other at the beginning right after we left old Boston. A great squall it was too. He come on deck with one boot on at the call of 'All Hands' and as he was trying to put the other on a wave washed it from his hand. He were so proud of his new boots too.

"'Ain't gon' ta buy no more,' he told us. 'Ain't got me money's worth from this one yet.'

"So 'One Boot' could be seen on deck in this terrible weather wearing the boot, one day on his left foot and on his right'un the next. He truly were the character in the group.

"Anyways, one day we had just got off watch in the miserable weather off the horn, when we hears the bosen's call whistling us from off soggy bunks to shorten sail.

"We only had the fore lower t'sail set, but the ship was laying over with her lee rail a foot under water. We was mighty feared that this would be our last voyage. We got ourselves spread out the slippery sixty foot yard, covered with ice, and tried to furl the sail. But it was stiff as a board and frozen solid. We tore our fingers on the icy canvass, but couldn't make no way on it. At times the yard was almost touching the waves, and at times we could only grab a becket and hold on.

"We knew that if we couldn't get the sail off o' her we'd capsize.

"About that time we heard a wild yell from above and old 'One Boot' came swingin' down on a line from the upper yard and kicked that sail right in the middle with his one boot. This broke the ice from off it and we were able t' get our hands on it. Someone started up 'Patty Doyle' and singin' we furled that sail in a minute or so.

"To me way heh, he....heh,
We'll pay Patty Doyle for his goods

To me way heh, he.....heh,
We'll all shave under the chin.

To me way, heh, he.......heh,
We'll all buy whisky and gin.

"As we was making our ways back to the ratlines to go on deck, Jim called out for us to help him. He'd made a bad mistake and grabbed the steel yard, instead of the becket, with his bare hand. His hand had frozen to the yard. We tried to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge.

Jim yells 'I'll get it off, by God!' and he pulls his knife out and cuts off the fingers on his left hand at the second knuckle. We helped him down the rat lines and into his bunk below. Poor old Jim he wouldn't be goin' to sea no more now. Yes Mon, that was my worst trip ever.

"So I hopes you appreciate those sails he made for you, 'cause he put him whole sailing spirit in 'em."

They weren't modern sails, but I don't think I've had any others I've appreciated more.