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The routine was broken by an invitation from the Potomac River Pilots Association to attend a special viewing of antique charts at the Library of Congress one evening. The oldest chart on display was a 15th century rendering of the Mediterranean Sea. A striking feature of this chart was that the maker took the time to identify major ports as either Christian or Muslim with a cross or a crescent moon respectively. Another chart was made by a Dutchman in 1605. It portrayed the waters of New York through which we had just transited. The shores were shown as green and rural, and the East River was shown a good bit wider then than it is now. Interestingly, the chart was oriented West-up, rather than the conventional North-up display to which we are now accustomed. This point of reference gives the impression that, for the navigator on America's eastern shores, all that was old and known was east, behind the viewer's back, and all that was new and unknown lay forward, to the west. Another chart depicted the Chesapeake Bay during the American Revolution. It portrayed General Cornwallis' forces hemmed in at Yorktown. One wonders if the maker had any idea at the time he crafted the chart that Cornwallis' untenable position would so soon lead to independence for the United States of America. Also in the collection is a German chart that contains the first published reference to the New World as "America." There were many other charts on display, all of them priceless in one sense or another. It was remarkable to think that the charts that we viewed constituted only a small sampling of the national collection.

Crew changes continued at Washington. Our Engineer, Cal Ocampo, headed home to Baltimore after seven months of caring for all of Pride II's considerable engineering systems. The Mate, Dave Briddle, also signed off after a seven month odyssey from Bosun, to Second Mate, to Chief Mate. His final hours aboard were spent making a work list for the oncoming Mate, Daniel Hornstein. David is off to Antarctica next. Both Cal and Dave were veterans of the 1999 season. The competence and continuity that they brought to the ship went a long way toward sustaining the standards and the traditions of the Pride this year. Also saying farewell at Washington was deckhand Michelle Glynn. She has gone ashore, soon to be followed by her fiancé, our redoubtable Bosun, Paul Gill, to start a family. From one family to another, the Pride wishes them well. Pride II has gained a new crew member in John O'Conner, who has joined in Michelle's stead. We will have to wait till Baltimore for our new engineer.

The ship departed Washington on October 4^th for the long meander down the Potomac River. The banks remained clad in greenery but the occasional plume of autumn color burst from the tree-crowded shore like an impatient New Year's Eve reveler upon the approach of midnight. The ship puttered peacefully downriver through the night, arriving at the river mouth at dawn. A fresh sou'west breeze came up with the sun, so the crew cracked on sail and the ship shot north to Solomons Island at the mouth of the Patuxent River.

Maintenance goes ahead as ever, but our most recent project is the cannons. As you know, Pride II carries four six-pound carriage guns and two smaller swivel guns. In our relentless effort to keep the brightwork bright, the paintwork painted, the rigging rigged, and the sails sailing, our precious cannons have been somewhat neglected. Therefore, at Solomons Island the crew charged the guns. The assault weapons of choice were chipping hammers, grinding wheels and wire brushes. The dust and rust flew as, one by one, the cannons surrendered to the power of love. After the laborious process of removing all traces of rust, the guns are treated with a rust-converting solution. Next they are primed with several coats of a heavy zinc-laden primer. Lastly, they receive multiple coats of beautiful flat black paint. This will not be a quick project.

Upon leaving Solomons Island, we sailed south again with a fair nor'westerly wind. Later the same day, the anchor went down at Windmill Point on the St. Mary's River. Our destination was a place that Pride II had never been to before - the Harry Lundeberg School of Seamanship at Piney Point, four miles up St. Georges Creek without a paddle. The water depth going up the creek is, how shall I put it? Somewhat dubious for a vessel of Pride's draft? Marginal? Shallow. The chart showed 10 to 11 feet in the channel. Pride II draws 12 and a half. Yet we were assured that the channel was deep enough. Clearly, a thorough reconnaissance mission was in order.

A local skipjack captain by the name of Jack Russell volunteered to help us out. The Bosun grabbed the leadline and we went along in Capt. Russell's boat to see what we could see. We sounded the length and breadth of the shallowest half-mile of channel three times. The strong northerly winds of previous days had blown the water level down some, so after two hours of sounding, I was still left with considerable doubt as to whether the ship would fit, even at high tide. In some places I saw 12 foot, 4 inches. Not enough. The worst scenario would be to attempt the channel at the very top of the tide and then get stuck. With the moon waning, each subsequent tide would be lower than the last, and there was no assist vessel readily available. Additionally, it is not as if the area of shoal water was isolated to a small area. There was a half mile of territory of a fairly constant depth in which to get stuck. That leaves a lot of mud to drag Pride's keel through.

By the next morning, the wind had swung into the south as forecast. This can significantly change the water level in the creek. Paul and I set out again with the leadline to see what we could see. This time we found about 12 foot, 10 inches of water at mid-tide. The water level had rebounded with the wind shift, improving our prospects greatly. Based on our new information, I decided to go for it. However, it was abundantly clear that we would have to work with the tide cycle, which meant we could not pick our time of arrival. Tuesday afternoon we snaked the ship up the channel at mid-tide rising and never saw less than 6 inches under the keel. Due to shoaling, there was no turning room off the dock and we had to back the ship up 200 yards to our berth. The reception with the Patuxent River Partnership was scheduled to start at 1700. Pride of Baltimore II was tied up and open for business at 10 minutes before the hour.

Now, some may question the appropriateness of shooting cannons off in downtown Baltimore in light of the events of September 11. It is an important consideration and one that we considered carefully. And after all that careful consideration, it was clear that more good would come of the Pride doing what she normally does than not. After all, the truest form of defiance is persevering in one's chosen course despite intimidation, pain, anger, and injury. No disrespect to the victims of September 11, which is really all of us anyway, but the Pride sailing into the Inner Harbor, cannons blazing, is as normal as anything ever gets on the Pride. It is what people expect us to do, so we did it today for everyone's sake. In the words of another Presidential inventor of new words, Warren G. Harding, the activities of today were a small step toward a return to "normalcy." There were no complaints.

A special part of our time at home was the arrival of the Amistad down from Connecticut. Like Pride of Baltimore II, Amistad is also a Baltimore Clipper design. As with the Pride, Peter Boudreau played a vital role in her creation. Amistad is a replica of a vessel of the same name that was the scene of a slave uprising in 1839. Slaves bound from Havana to the opposite end of Cuba took fate into their own hands by seizing the ship and attempting to sail her back to Africa. The ship was brought into New London, CT, by U.S. authorities at a time of rising abolitionist sentiment in New England. The cause of the captive Africans evolved into a celebrated legal action that ended in the United States Supreme Court. Former President John Quincy Adams represented the captives and won their legal freedom, against the leanings of the sitting President, Martin Van Buren, who was under pressure from the southern states. The captives were ultimately repatriated to Africa, though the status of slaves in the United States remained untouched by the decision. The new Amistad is on her first deployment away from Connecticut waters and is bringing this story to life wherever she goes.

Soon Pride II will set forth to uphold her honor in the Great Chesapeake Schooner Race, and I will take a short rest on the beach while Fall closes in. We have arrived at the downward slope of Pride's sailing season. We are running out these last weeks here on the Bay, moving from port to port, and opening the ship to school kids and the general public. In actual fact, this is a very pleasant way to wrap up what has otherwise been a very intense season. The fact that we are doing fewer public events may give the impression that we are coasting, but in terms of keeping up the vessel, we are full-steam ahead. With the benefit of some fine fall weather and this hard-working crew, we have an opportunity to end the season looking mighty sharp, even by our own standards.

Watch Below,

Capt. Dan Parrott