National Geographic : 1967 Dec
our destination. A quick red flasher pulsed on our starboard hand; we turned hard left, and ghosted slowly into a berth outboard of three other skipjacks. After tying up we stepped from vessel to vessel to the sandy foreshore. In the morning I looked round the little basin. Skipjacks were all around the Webster, rafted three and four deep, side by side and held apart by auto-tire fenders. Some had hoisted their sails to dry, and they hung in white and buff folds against the deep-blue sky. Within an oyster's throw stood the white wooden houses of Wenona. Gray weather board crab-packing houses and wooden holding boxes floating in rows lined the wa terfront. Like all oyster communities on the Bay, Wenona is a crab town in summer. On the screen door of the little general store and post office I read a sign: "Please leave your whiskey and beer outside." The deeply pious Methodists of Deal Island are, almost to a man, teetotalers. Inside, the! captains sat on long benches and talked shop. Above the men's heads a hand-lettered sign read: "We don't care to hear your nasty vulgar jokes thank you." Quiet Talk of Oyster Beds and Boats "These austers on Daddy Dear was right heavy; they'd shuck seven points [pints] to the bushel." "Fish is nothin' plentiful; we been havin' right smart o' trout, but no hardheads." "Oh my blessed but she was tender. A little green flaw comin', she'd jump. When we jibed her, her deck'd come level with the water." "Course she won't sail as fast. Them old boats is sobby. New wood's lighter." BYLUIS MARDEN(BELOW)ANDJAMESL. AMOS 809 N.G.S.