When we were of an age when I started to think about retiring, one of my fantasies was to live on a comfortable boat and be able to travel, free as the breeze. After visiting several yacht brokers in Baltimore, we bought a handsome new yacht, thirty-six feet long, whose maker will be nameless for reasons which will become apparent. It had a luxurious interior, twin Chrysler engines, a generator to make us independant of shore electricity, radio telephone and fathometer, a flying bridge and even a bimini tower (to watch for sailfish). Her name CAREFREE LADY was painted on her transom in large flowing script. A less appropriate name has never been coined!

Her maiden voyage was across Chesapeake bay from Annapolis to Cambridge, on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, where daughter Margaret lived with her veterinary husband Edward Zak and their two sons. CAREFREE LADY lived there for part of a year, docked in the public marina, inoperative much of the time because the engines or the generator were being repaired. We made some short excursions around the Bay, between my stints of research at Corning Glass Works.

In 1972, Hurricane Agnes roared up the coast while Ruth and I were aboard. At the height of the storm, seventy-mile winds hit us along with torrential rain and fast-rising tide. As night came on, we were kept busy adding more ropes to keep from blowing across the harbor, and retying higher on the pilings as the water rose. During the process, my pajama pants were dragged off by the drenching rain. CAREFREE LADY was finally floating so high that the tops of the pilings were barely above water and electrical connections were under water. After the hurricane passed by and the water level started to go down, we had to keep the side rails of the boat from catching on the tops of the pilings and tearing off, or tipping the boat.

We never knew until a week later that Agnes has made an unprecedented turn inland, drenching Corning with seven inches of rain. The little Chemung river had flooded the whole valley, and ruined many homes including ours, with mud and water up to the ceilings. That is a long story by itself, and we are eternally grateful to family and friends, especially Bob and family and the Zak family, for their Herculean labors in removing flood debris even before we were able to get home.

A few months later, after we had moved to an apartment, Ruth and I decided to take our five weeks' vacation cruising from Cambridge down Chesapeake Bay and the Inland Waterway to Florida. Our son Bob and his family -- Sally, David and Steven -- were to join us in Norfolk and travel the rest of the way.

Just as Ruth and I boarded CAREFREE LADY, a howling Nor'easter blew up and lasted for days, keeping us trapped. After it eased off, we headed south. We crossed the Chesapeake safely, and stopped at a marina on Gwynne Island north of Norfolk. Next day the storm resumed at full force and lasted several more days! This gave me time to cogitate about being "free as the wind", the high fuel cost, whether CAREFREE LADY was the right name for this boat, and similar subjects.

But this was only the beginning of our troubles. Bob and family were now waiting and wondering in Norfolk and finally joined us for a few days, with vacation time passing. So as soon as it seemed that the wind was easing, we took off again. When we left the shelter of the lee side of the island and rounded its northern point out into the Bay, I knew we should not have started. Even high up on the bimini tower, spray and solid sheets of water soaked us and ruined the vital notes that listed the buoys that were to keep us on course. Visibility was terrible. Finally Ruth did see a buoy to the northeast of us and we needed to see its number. We knew we had to get back to the island, but couldn't see it by this time.

I was afraid the boat would capsize if we turned against the wind to reach the buoy and read its number, but we had to know where we were. We did make the turn, but the boat heeled over so far that one of the engines stopped for good, and I was sure we were capsizing. (Mechanics found later that the carburetor float had jammed when we were tipped so far).

At this point, I was vividly remembering the statement of the veteran Chesapeake fisherman who, visiting us on the LADY, said, "This boat is top-heavy! If she were mine, I'd pour concrete into her bottom."

Since you had read this far, you may conclude that we survived. We did read the number on the buoy and found our way back to the Gwynne Island marina. Meanwhile, when we decided we were going to live, Ruth had to go to the potty. She descended to the deck, but the glamorous glass door to the cabin had slid shut and locked! Desperate, she found a plastic pail. While sitting on it, what did she see but a birthday cake sliding around the deck! Sally had hidden it under a chair, when they located us.

The ignominious finale to our return was that a propeller jammed in a trailing rope as we backed into the dock.

Next to us was a coast guard cutter that had just returned from rescuing the crew of a sailboat that had been caught in the storm. The crew had gone below, battened down the hatches, and were being blown out to sea.

Two days later, Bob and I cruised to a Norfolk marina while Sally drove the others in their car; running over an unfortunate dog on the way.

CAREFREE LADY wasn't through with us yet. Undaunted and unknowing, we all embarked in Norfolk, several days behind schedule. The prolonged storm had shifted many sandbars and markers, and we narrowly missed several groundings. A speeding boat passed us illegally in a narrow channel and nearly capsized us. I was below, shaving, and nearly cut my throat.

The final straw came as we were on our way to a marina south of Morehead city, North Carolina. Although we were on course according to the chart, we were cautiously going only ten or fifteen miles per hour rather than our twenty mile normal speed. In spite of our caution, we hit a reef with no warning, and stopped dead. (Bob says I mis-read the chart!)

Everything was chaos down below. Ruth was thrown against a corner and broke some ribs. Grandson David, about five years old, fell down the stairs, hurt a shoulder and split his scalp. Dishes were broken, and everything loose was scattered at random.

We called the Coast Guard on the Radio telephone. Their station was only a few minutes away. To their question whether we were sinking, we replied, "No, we're aground!"

Their boat arrived in a few minutes, attached a heavy line after checking for damage, hauled us off the reef, and escorted us to a nearby marina that had a hydraulic hoist to lift the boat out of the water, and repair facilities. On the way, they told us that we were the fifth boat they had pulled off that reef the same day! I don't accuse the coast guard; in fact I'm grateful to them, but I wonder if the marina owner is descended from the Outer Banks ship wreckers.

Be that as it may, and in spite of the fact that CAREFREE LADY showed no structural damage, I couldn't bear the sight of her any more. I sold her on the spot to the marina owner. Ruth and David were patched up at the hospital. David, being a doctor's son, was curious about the clinical details of the operations. We all packed up our belongings and went home the next day. I don't think I'm superstitious, but it seemed to me that the next thing CAREFREE LADY might do would be to blow up or catch fire and kill us all!

That was the end of our pleasure trip to Florida. I hope the next owner of CAREFREE LADY is still living!