Enroute to Brig Bay

The year 1954. On a fine morning about ten o'clock, in the month of July, I started my outboard motor and left the Bowater's wharf at Hawkes Bay, to journey homeward. The wind was moderate, even pleasant as I steamed through the narrows of the Bay. But when I came to pass by the lighthouse on Keppel Island, facing the open sea, I had to reduce speed. As usual it was uncomfortable from spray, for the wind was gusting from the west. As usual, it was rather difficult navigating around Point Riche, where the seas were quite rough. Usually I would steer an outer course between S. John's Island and Flat Island, in a line with Ferolle Point lighthouse, but because of the rough passage, I set a course between St. John's Island and Round Head Island. Even though I had the wind, on my quarter, I had to keep the motor throttled down because of the turbulent seas.

Eventually arriving in the shelter of the St John's Islands I checked the fuel tank and found that my gas supply was getting rather low for, the distance I had yet to go. I knew that in this Tickle there was a lobster Pool and two or three fishing premises, where I might obtain a gallon or two of gas. As I cruised slowly along I saw there was a moderate sea washing on the beach in the area of the lobster Pool, which would make landing difficult, there. Half way through the Tickle I passed a rocky point on my right and glancing backward saw that a long, sheltered cove had come into view, with a fishermen's cabin and wharf, to which boats were tied up. I made the turn around to the point and approach the wharf, opened the throttle for the quarter mile run to fishing premises. Three men walked down to the wharf to meet the newcomer.

I recognized the Applin brothers from Shoal Cove; their community was just a few miles from where I live. One of them, smiling, exclaimed, "I saw your boat come around the point, and I knew it was you, right away. I've seen her pass by often when we've been out on our lines. I just said to the boys when you turned around the point, 'watch now, when she lines up with the wharf you'll see her head rise up; she's speeding along then!' And it happened just like I said it would." At that time my boat was unique for two reasons, Her speed and her color. She was painted a bright yellow, the trade color of the chain saws I was promoting, and had a banner on each side, McCulloch Chain Saws. They had me up to their cabin and meet their mother, who was cook for them; she prepared a lunch for me. They were happy to provide gas and invited me to stay with them overnight but I told them I meant to push on. (Gas was thirty cents per gallon, then!) As they saw me off, the brothers predicted that the wind would diminish later in the evening.

It waas about 4 p.m. when I left, steaming northward through the Tickle and heading toward Whale Island and then Twin Islands. The wind seemed to have dropped considerably, but nearing the Twin Islands I observed a fog bank moving into the bay. While passing through the run between the Twin Islands, I took a compass bearing on the lighthouse at Ferolle Point before the fog bank obsecured the lighthouse site. It wasn't long before I was enguulfed in the dense fog; I found that I had to throttle back to slow speed and feel my way along, as it had become dark, like late evening.

I calculated my speed and the distance to the lighthouse, and estimated the time it would take to arrive at Ferrole Point. When I felt that I had arrived within a mile of the Point I stopped the motor and listened for the foghorn and watched for the revolving ray from the lighthouse. The wind had dropped out completely. There was no sound from the shore. I ran the motor for a few minutes more and stopped. Still nothing. I repeated the action several times with no results. It was now so dark that I could not discern for certain the reading on either my watch or the compass. I felt it was about seven o'clock. Also, I felt that I was near the shore. There was no wind and only a slight sea swell. I was puzzled that there was no sound from the lighthouse or the nearby community of New Ferolle. I decided to sit and wait for the fog to lighten.

Everything was wet as though it had been raining. In a little while I noticed something that appeared to be a black wall that I at first thought was only my imagination. I think my attention was directed toward it by a slight swishing or sloshing sound of seawater lapping against a cliff or rock. I sculled the boat to it and reached out with the oar. It appeared to be upright cliff, perhaps five feet above the water. Reaching down with the oar I hit bottom at about five feet. At first I had the idea to raise the outboard motor, scull the boat along by this cliff to the shore, and search to establish my location. I felt it was no more than a quarter mile from the lighthouse. About the same time I saw what I thought was the flash of a light in the mist, and I took it to be the ray from the lighthouse. It seemed to put my position about where I had originally planned to be. But the flash wasn't repeated. It may have been the beam of a flashlight from the lighthouse site. I now had the option to push my boat to the shore and tie up until the weather cleared. But I felt more comfortable with my boat and motor and the freedom of the open sea, rather than putting my boat ashore on an unknown beach. I felt the urge to get back out to sea again and continue on my journey.

I was satisfied that I had arrived in the vicinity of the lighthouse; what I wanted to do now was to get back on my course again. To accomplish this I would need to run to the southwest a distance to avoid the string of reefs that I knew were lying south west of the lighthouse. I would then turn to my right, that would take me in a northwest direction toward the open sea for a few minutes. Then a further right turn would take me approximately north east, and the lighthouse and foghorn would show on my right, or starboard side. I established my first course and ran the motor slowly for short distances, occassionly checking the depth. As the song puts it, I was "coming in on a wing and a prayer". Many prayers!

In about thirty minutes I was on the seaward side of the lighthouse and could see faint flashs of the light and hear the sound of the foghorn, which verified my whereabouts to some extent. About two miles northeast of Ferolle Point I found the fog beginning to lighten and shortly was in relatively clear weather; sometime that night, or rather, early morning, I arrived home safely. I believe the Lord helped me.

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