Log of Sloop Red Wolf 
1/6/34

“Pirate’s Cove” , Casino Island

Received a letter c/o Shanghi Sadie’s from Florida, back in the States. I knew the return address of Capt. Dyere, but the handwriting was strange. Inside was a newspaper clipping, telling of the sinking of the charter sloop, “Bucktail”, and a letter….

It was early spring in ’27. My usual “office” when in port at San Diego was “One Eyed Jacks” down on the docks. I’d been interviewing potential crewmen for a delivery job I’d contracted, the 80’ Ketch “Blue Fin”, that would need at least 3 hands besides my own. The LeBoulanger brothers, a pair of Cajun possums I’d sailed with before, would make up one watch, leaving one berth left to fill.

When she walked into the dive, mine weren’t the only set of eyes drawn to her! A white-tailed doe fit out in canvas shorts and middy blouse, with a sailor’s cap on her head & neckerchief around her throat. She was maybe halfway across the floor when a big dock walloper who’d had a few pints too many already, decided there was only one reason for a pretty girl to come into a place like that alone & he wasn’t going to take “no” for an answer. When I saw her hand going up towards her neckerchief I first thought I knew what was going to happen, then dismissed it as too wild an idea. I should have followed my hunch! Pulling the length of black silk over her head she gave it a quick toss then laid it full strength upside of the longshoreman’s head! As he staggered back, her return swing laid him out on the deck for a long nap! She proceeded to my own table, where I pushed out a chair for her to set down.

“What do you have in there?” I asked, “Gravel or lead?”

“A handfull of Double-0 Shot” she replied with a smile. “I never go for half-measures.”

Deborah Dyere, called DeeDee by her friends, had been recommended to me as a good all-around Hand. Her father owned a small charter business out of the Florida Keys, and she was well on her way towards getting her own Master’s Rating. Needing some log time in western waters, a long passage with me seemed a good opportunity for her to get it. She’d pulled her weight on sailing boats before, so I signed her aboard as the other half of my own watch.

Three days later we were casting off, and as always at the beginning of a voyage I was singing the traditional old capstan shanty “Away Rio” to myself. Or at least that’s what I thought I was doing, as I’d only gotten through the opening lines when a sweet soprano voice from behind me came back with the response, and then accompanied me through the rest of the song at full voice as we headed her out! Seems DeeDee knew almost as many of the old sea songs as I did myself, including a lot of verses I’d have never admitted to my wife that I knew!

All in all, it was a pleasant sail till about 15 days out when the weather became unsettled. We managed through a few days of it well enough, though, till about the night of the 18th day. The LeBoulangers were on watch; DeeDee was asleep in her bunk in the for’castle, as I was in my old hammock I’d slung in the owner’s cabin aft. The loud clanging of the ship’s bell calling “All Hands” had me hit the deck on a run & up the ladder topside before I even knew I was awake! Dark as the night was, the black wall running down on us was even darker! DeeDee had just popped up the hatch, battening it down quickly behind her, when I told her to take the helm & keep the present course while the brothers & I took in the canvas before the squall hit us. We’d almost made it down to bare poles & a storm jib when the bastard hit! DeeDee kept the worst of the wind on our stern & steered her through as well as I’d have done myself! Lashing down the last bit of sail I looked aft & saw a sight that remains with me yet! Illuminated in the lightning flashes, she stood at the wheel with her long black hair lashing in the wind, and a wild light of excitement in her eyes and a kind of excited joy on her face!

Now there was a sailor! Damn me if it wasn’t til the next morning that I also recalled she’d answered the “All Hands” without bothering to grab a stitch of clothes before coming topside either!

DeeDee didn’t stay long in the Spontoons, as her father’s business in the familiar Caribbean needed her. As I expected, it was a short time later I got her note crowing over her new Master’s License, maiking her “Captain” DeeDee, of one of her father’s charter sloops, the “Bucktail”!

The letter from Capt. John Dyere that accompanied the newspaper clipping filled in the rest of the story. DeeDee had spent nearly 40 hours at the wheel of her charter sloop till the Caribbean gale had blown itself out. The seas were calm and with no wind, they were motoring their way back towards port. There were no reefs or other hazards for at least 5 miles or better to either side, and those well marked with warning buoys & clear sailing ahead. Her client claimed to be an experienced yachtsman, so she thought she could trust him to hold the simple course ahead while she went below for a short nap. A child could have done it. Unfortuanately, a rich businessman doesn’t always have the common sense of a child. A social chat with some of his guests aboard the charter led to a deeper discussion of business matters and then to politics and nare a thought of the compass needle’s swinging! The boat was more than 5 miles off course when the business man heard the ring of a buoy bell and decided to take the boat closer to investigate. He ran her on the reef at full throttle, ripping out the entire bottom! Poor DeeDee, sound asleep below decks, hadn’t a chance!

Late that night, back aboard REDWOLF, I unstowed a bottle of Jamaican Rum I’d intended to keep for some special occasion,. I decided this was the one, and after taking a long pull at the bottle, poured the rest out into the sea water where it might eventually find itself flowing into the Caribbean where a damn good captain had gone down with her ship and might apprecieate sharing the drink with Davy Jones and her old skipper of the Ketch “Bluefin”.

“Following Seas” wherever ye be, Capt. DeeDee!

G.