Nantucket | Martha's Vineyard - Day 6

Tuesday 7/23/19 - We awoke on Tuesday to the gentle drumming of rain on the cabin’s roof.  With the calming patter of the shower, the grey morning, and the cobwebs from a night of beers, there was no rush to jump out of bed.  We slowly came to our senses on our own time. I brewed a pot of coffee, as we discussed our plan for the day.  Other than getting Avery to the high school for her third swimming rendezvous in as many days, we decided to have no plan.  On shore, we visited all 5 of the island’s breakfast joints, before returning to the original, “Or The Whale” After forgetting to inquire about the origins of the restaurant’s name, we sat down and promptly ordered one of everything on the menu.  An orange glazed doughnut otherwise known as their doughnut of the day, coffee cake, French toast, pancakes with real Vermont maple syrup, scrambled eggs and coffee.  
 
We needed a hearty breakfast to shake some life into all of us...at nearly 11 in the morning.

 We allowed Google Maps to guide us one mile along side streets to the high school pool.  The houses lining the narrow streets must have been erected over a century ago. Unfortunately, my inner historian had nobody to ask about original occupants on this side of town.  After rereading the “Heart of the Sea” before our trip, I was up to speed on the various social classes of Quakers that put Nantucket on the map some two-hundred years ago.  Where your place was on the whaling ship dictated where your real estate was on island.  I noticed the multitude of “lookouts” on the roofs of the three-story houses.  They looked like a gated rooftop deck, where the lonely maidens of sailors would watch for their men to return from sea after three to five years.  More on that later.
 
We arrived at the high school, which not surprisingly, was built of the same red cedar, which was now grey, just like every other structure in town.  We walked down the halls, colored in a similar hue as the exterior, which Avery associated with the likes of a prison, to find the gym and women’s locker room.  Walking through the men’s locker room, I was reminded of my own high school days, and felt somewhat nostalgic for that period in my life.  We watched Avery take a couple laps before going for a stroll around the neighborhood.  
 
We sought out “Sisters Spa and Salon” hoping for a drop-in nail treatment but were apologetically informed of no openings for our big family of five.  No worries, that just killed twenty minutes, so we’ll head back, pick up Avery and get on with our day.
 
On the return trip, Charley, Nora and I popped into the old “Newtown” Cemetery we had passed on the way.  There were faded white stones from the time of the civil war.  I saw captions for whaling captains, civil war casualties, and the occasional child.  I thought I might stumble across one of the famous characters from the days of Moby Dick (Sinking of the Essex) but didn’t recognize any names.  
 
“Do you know anyone who died here, daddy?” Nora asked so innocently.  
 
“No daughter, I don’t have any friends who happened to die in Nantucket” I replied.
 
With Avery in tow, we headed back to town and made our way to the Nantucket Whaling Museum.  We sat through a very theatrical presentation by Sean, our mid-twenties museum guide, who explained what life on a whale ship was like, two-hundred years prior. Keep in mind, this was during a period of history where Nantucket was one of the wealthiest communities in the US and the epicenter of whaling in the world. He told the story of Benjamin, a green hand, meaning inexperienced, farmer from New England. He like many, dreamed of life at sea, away from the mundane work of toiling the soil back home. Once on board, Benjamin would sleep, eat, and coexist with twenty-five other men in a room no larger than five-hundred square feet for the next three to five years of his life.  The whale ship would leave Nantucket, sail across the Atlantic to the Azores, down the coast of South America, round Cape Horn, and then hunt whales in the Pacific for two to four years.  During that time, the work involved spotting a whale or pod, giving chase in a twenty foot row boat lowered from the main ship.  The process then involved harpooning the whale, which essentially attaches the boat to the whale. The next step was like going for a roller coaster ride. Except the locals called it a “Nantucket Sleigh Ride”. These Nantucket sleigh Rides would last for miles, until the whale gave in from all of the exertion put into trying to free itself.  Once tired, usually three or more miles from the main boat, the whale was brought close for the death blow from a second harpoon.  When there was “Fire in the Chimney”, or blood spurting from the blowhole, the men detached the harpoons from the flailing creature, and watched the whale move violently, grasping for life.  
 
Once dead, the men reattached and rowed for the next four to five hours, returning to the ship, dragging seventy feet and hundreds of tons of dead weight in the water.  Back at the ship, a great fire was started to melt away the blubber, pulled off in strips by men cutting and spinning the whale in the water, surrounded by now excited and hungry sharks.  Benjamin would be given the job of climbing into the whale’s head through a hole, scooping out the spermincetti oil that was used to make the finest candles, perfumes, and no doubt aphrodisiacs on shore.  More than a day later, they had harvested one whale, which would be repeated sixty times on an average three to five year voyage.  The smell alone was pungent enough to make a man sick thirty miles away.  So, Benjamin, how are you feeling about that decision to leave the quaint farmland in upstate Vermont to enter this life?  If successful, this young man would receive a very small “leg” of the profits, and may walk away with $200, the equivalent of $1,000 today.  Such was the life of a whale man. Pretty crazy, right?
 
After an hour of exploring the museum and keeping the girls from breaking items that had survived two-hundred years of history, we headed back out into the town to shop.  
 
While shopping, I found some tee shirts that I really liked. A couple of them read;
 
“I am the man from Nantucket” and “take a left at the second grey house with white trim”
 
I thought they were pretty amusing.
 
We killed an hour by offering the girls a pick of candy, purchasing several sweatshirts to both memorialize the visit and to combat the now falling temperature. The sun had yet to appear for more than twenty minutes since making landfall the day prior.  We finally made our way to dinner at Noble Charlie’s, another family-friendly restaurant that offered nothing other than seafood, and your classic child’s Mac-n-Cheese/cheeseburger.  
 
While we awaited dinner, myself and my small children enjoyed a spirited game of foosball.  
 
Come to think of it, I’m not sure if teaching your children bar games is frowned upon in elite circles. Regardless, we’ve now added rod-hockey and bar-soccer to the girls’ otherwise narrow experience with iPad games. 
 
After five hours of walking, the cooling temperatures, and the exhaustion that accompanies a week off from reality (not complaining), I was excited to get back to the boat for a warm shower, dry bed, and good book.  
 
Woah. Am I becoming my mother?  Dear God.  
 
I crawled into bed around nine, just as the girls fell asleep to their first movie on the iPad all week. Tara and Avery held their breaths as Alabama’s beauty queen cut bait on another poor soul.  
 
Just before shutting off the light, I looked at my trusty wind map.  I softened Tara’s immediate fears upon seeing a red screen (gale-force winds) engulfing our departure tomorrow morning by explaining that Mother Nature has a way of changing her mind last minute, just like Hannah.  
 
We’ll be fine, I hope...
 
Ah… here we are, in sight of Oak Bluffs, Martha’s Vineyard.  I’ll check in with all of you tomorrow, as we make our final voyage back to Newport.  
 
You know something? Time goes by too fast, even on a sailboat only making five knots...
 
Until tomorrow, goodnight.