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UNDERGROUND
SENSING
MONITORING AND HAZARD DETECTION FOR
ENVIRONMENT AND INFRASTRUCTURE

EDITED BY
SIBEL PAMUKCU
LIANG CHENG
UNDERGROUND
SENSING
This page intentionally left blank
UNDERGROUND
SENSING
Monitoring and Hazard Detection
for Environment and Infrastructure

Edited by

SIBEL PAMUKCU
LIANG CHENG
Academic Press is an imprint of Elsevier
125 London Wall, London EC2Y 5AS, United Kingdom
525 B Street, Suite 1800, San Diego, CA 92101-4495, United States
50 Hampshire Street, 5th Floor, Cambridge, MA 02139, United States
The Boulevard, Langford Lane, Kidlington, Oxford OX5 1GB, United Kingdom
Copyright © 2018 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Details on how to seek
permission, further information about the Publisher’s permissions policies and our arrangements
with organizations such as the Copyright Clearance Center and the Copyright Licensing Agency,
can be found at our website: www.elsevier.com/permissions.
This book and the individual contributions contained in it are protected under copyright by the
Publisher (other than as may be noted herein).
Notices
Knowledge and best practice in this field are constantly changing. As new research and experience
broaden our understanding, changes in research methods, professional practices, or medical
treatment may become necessary.
Practitioners and researchers must always rely on their own experience and knowledge in evaluating
and using any information, methods, compounds, or experiments described herein. In using such
information or methods they should be mindful of their own safety and the safety of others,
including parties for whom they have a professional responsibility.
To the fullest extent of the law, neither the Publisher nor the authors, contributors, or editors,
assume any liability for any injury and/or damage to persons or property as a matter of products
liability, negligence or otherwise, or from any use or operation of any methods, products,
instructions, or ideas contained in the material herein.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-0-12-803139-1

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Publisher: Matthew Deans

Acquisition Editor: Ken McCombs
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Production Project Manager: Julie-Ann Stansfield, Sruthi Satheesh
Designer: Greg Harris
Typeset by VTeX
CONTENTS

List of Contributors xiii

Preface xvii

1. Introduction and Overview of Underground Sensing for

Sustainable Response 1
Sibel Pamukcu, Liang Cheng, Mesut Pervizpour
1.1. Underground Sensing for Environmental, Economic, and Social
Sustainability 1
1.2. Sustainability and Indicators 4
1.3. Overview of Underground Sensing and Monitoring 8
1.3.1. Current Technologies for Underground Environmental and
Geotechnical Monitoring 8
1.3.2. Environmental Underground Sensing and Monitoring 12
1.3.3. Geotechnical Underground Sensing and Monitoring 23
References 28

2. Acoustic, Electromagnetic and Optical Sensing and Monitoring

Methods 43
Wen Xiao, Xiaosu Yi, Feng Pan, Rui Li, Tian Xia

2.1. Principles of Acoustic and Electromagnetic Sensing 43

Wen Xiao, Xiaosu Yi, Feng Pan, Rui Li
2.1.1. Introduction 43
2.1.1.1. Conventional Underground Measurement Methods 44
2.1.1.2. Conventional Devices Used for Underground Measurements 47
2.1.2. Acoustical Measurement Methods—AMM 49
2.1.2.1. Direct Detection Method 49
2.1.2.2. Acoustic Emission (AE) and Acoustic Source Location (ASL)
Method 50
2.1.2.3. Reflection Seismology 52
2.1.2.4. Acoustic-to-Seismic (A/S) Coupling 59
2.1.3. Electric and Electromagnetic Methods 62
2.1.3.1. Electrical Resistivity Surveys (ERS) 62
2.1.3.2. Electromagnetic Induction (EMI) Method 66
2.1.3.3. Ground-Penetrating Radar 69
2.1.4. Optical Sensing Technologies Used in Underground Measurement 71
2.1.4.1. Vibration Measurement 73
2.1.4.2. Strain/Stress Measurement 90

v
vi Contents

2.1.4.3.Temperature Measurement 94
2.1.4.4.Gas Detection 97
2.1.4.5.Examples of Practical Applications of Optical Sensor
Technologies in Underground Measurements 99
2.1.5. Conclusions 108
References 109

2.2. GPR Technologies for Underground Sensing 115

Tian Xia
2.2.1. Introduction to Ground Penetrating Radar 115
2.2.2. Operating Mechanism of GPR 116
2.2.2.1. GPR Signal Propagation in Dielectric Materials 117
2.2.2.2. GPR Sensing Resolution 120
2.2.3. GPR System Design 122
2.2.3.1. Pulse Generator 122
2.2.3.2. GPR Antenna 125
2.2.4. GPR Image Processing 130
2.2.4.1. Vibration Effect Correction 130
2.2.4.2. Radio-Frequency Interference Reduction 131
2.2.4.3. Clutter Removal 132
2.2.4.4. Feature Extraction 133
2.2.4.5. Statistical Analysis for Singular Feature Detection 134
References 138

3. Geotechnical Underground Sensing and Monitoring 141

Magued Iskander
3.1. Introduction 141
3.2. Monitoring Strain 143
3.2.1. Vibrating Wire (VW) Strain Gages 143
3.2.2. Foil Strain Gages 147
3.2.3. Fiber-Optic Strain Gages 153
3.2.4. Installation of Strain Gages 154
3.3. Monitoring Load 155
3.3.1. Electric Load Cells 155
3.3.2. Hydraulic Load Cells 159
3.3.3. Osterberg Load Cells 160
3.4. Monitoring Pressure 161
3.4.1. Monitoring of Piezometric Pressure 161
3.4.2. Monitoring of Total Stress (Total Earth Pressure) 169
3.5. Monitoring Deformation 171
3.5.1. Manual Methods 171
3.5.2. Linear Potentiometers 172
 Contents vii

3.5.3. LVDT 173

3.5.4. Vibrating Wire Joint Meters 175
3.5.5. Rod Extensometers 175
3.5.6. Probe Extensometers 176
3.5.7. Slope Extensometers 177
3.5.8. Liquid Level Gages 179
3.5.9. Optical Methods 180
3.6. Monitoring Tilt 180
3.6.1. Measurement of Tilt 181
3.6.2. Tilt Beams 184
3.6.3. Inclinometers 184
3.7. Monitoring Vibration 188
3.7.1. Sensors for Monitoring Vibration 190
3.7.2. Installation of Geophones and Accelerometers 192
3.8. Common Measurement Errors 193
3.8.1. Notation 193
3.8.2. Conformance 194
3.8.3. Electric Noise 194
3.8.4. Drift 195
3.8.5. Signal Aliasing 196
3.8.6. Bias (Systematic) Errors 196
3.8.7. Precision (Random) Errors 197
3.8.8. Sampling Errors 198
3.8.9. Gross Errors 198
3.9. Sensor Specifications 198
3.9.1. Range 199
3.9.2. Sensitivity 199
3.9.3. Resolution 199
3.9.4. Linearity 199
3.9.5. Hysteresis 199
3.9.6. Precision (Repeatability) 200
3.9.7. Accuracy 200
3.10. Closing Comment 201
Further Reading 201

4. Environmental Underground Sensing and Monitoring 203

Tissa H. Illangasekare, Qi Han, Anura P. Jayasumana
4.1. Introduction 203
4.2. Overview of Conventional and Transitional Environmental Sensors 205
4.3. Wireless Sensor Networks for Environmental Sensing Applications 207
4.3.1. Background and Current State-of-the-Art 207
4.3.2. Recent Advances in WSN Hardware Suitable for Underground
Environmental Applications 209
viii Contents

4.4. Fundamentals of WSN Supporting Environmental Applications:

Advances and Open Issues 210
4.4.1. Sensor Network Deployment 210
4.4.2. Virtual Sensor Networks 213
4.4.3. Reliable Sensor Data Collection 217
4.5. Wireless Sensor Networks for Long-Term Monitoring of Contaminated
Sites 220
4.5.1. WSN for Underground Plume Monitoring 221
4.5.2. Integrating WSN to Transport Models 230
4.5.3. Network Optimization 232
4.6. Wireless Sensor Networks for Remediation of Sites Contaminated With
Organic Wastes 235
4.7. Wireless Sensor Networks for Carbon Leakage 237
4.8. Conclusions 239
Acknowledgments 239
References 240

5. EM-Based Wireless Underground Sensor Networks 247

Abdul Salam, Mehmet C. Vuran
5.1. Introduction 247
5.2. Soil as a Communication Media 249
5.3. Propagation in the Underground Channel 252
5.3.1. Two-Wave UG Channel Model 252
5.3.2. Three-Wave UG Channel Model 253
5.3.3. Impulse Response Analysis of the UG Channel 256
5.3.4. Testbed Design for Impulse Response Parameters Analysis 257
5.3.5. UG Channel Impulse Response Parameters 258
5.3.6. Impulse Response Model Validation Through Experiments 264
5.4. Effects of Soil on Antenna and Channel Capacity 267
5.5. Error Control 270
5.6. Network Connectivity 273
5.7. WUSN Testbeds and Experimental Results 279
5.7.1. Field Testbed 279
5.7.2. Results of WUSN Experiments 279
5.8. Conclusions 282
References 283

6. Fiber-Optic Underground Sensor Networks 287

Kenichi Soga, Cedric Kechavarzi, Loizos Pelecanos, Nicholas de Battista,
Michael Williamson, Chang Ye Gue, Vanessa Di Murro, Mohammed Elshafie,
David Monzón-Hernández Sr., Erika Bustos, J.A. García
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 Contents ix

6.1. Distributed Fiber-Optic Strain Sensing for Monitoring

Underground Structures – Tunnels Case Studies 287
K. Soga, C. Kechavarzi, L. Pelecanos, N. de Batista, M. Williamson, C.Y. Gue,
V. Di Murro, M. Elshafie
6.1.1. Introduction 287
6.1.2. Distributed Fiber-Optic Sensing (DFOS) Based on Brillouin Scattering 290
6.1.3. Case Study 1: Monitoring of a Sprayed Concrete Tunnel Lining at the
Crossrail Liverpool Street Station 296
6.1.4. Case Study 2: Liverpool Street Station – Royal Mail Tunnel 303
6.1.5. Case Study 3: Monitoring of CERN Tunnels 315
References 320

6.2. Fiber-Optic Sensor Networks: Environmental Applications 322

J.A. García, D. Monzón-Hernández, E. Bustos
6.2.1. Introduction 322
6.2.2. Fiber-Optic Devices for Sensing 324
6.2.3. Environmental Applications of FOS 326
6.2.3.1. FOS for Gas and Emission Sensing 327
6.2.3.2. FOS for Water Contamination Sensing 334
6.2.3.3. FOS For Soil Indices and Soil Contamination Sensing 342
6.2.3.4. Mapping With Array-Based Distributed Fiber-Optic Sensors 349
6.2.4. General Conclusions 350
Acknowledgments 350
References 350

7. Advances and Challenges in Underground Sensing 357

Suk-Un Yoon, Andrew Markham, Niki Trigoni, Traian E. Abrudan,
Orfeas Kypris, Christian Wietfeld

7.1. Wireless Signal Networks for Global Underground Sensing 357

Suk-Un Yoon
7.1.1. Introduction 357
7.1.2. Wireless Signal Networks 358
7.1.2.1. Concept of Wireless Signal Networks 358
7.1.2.2. Subsurface Monitoring Applications 359
7.1.2.3. Subsurface Monitoring of WSiNs 362
7.1.3. Deployment Challenges of WSiNs 362
7.1.3.1. Installation and Management 363
7.1.3.2. Underground Radio Propagation and Communication
Distance 363
7.1.4. Subsurface Event Detection and Classification 365
7.1.4.1. Event Detection and Window Selection 365
x Contents

7.1.4.2. Event Classification on Selected Window 366

7.1.5. Evaluations of Wireless Signal Networks 368
7.1.5.1. Experiments of Subsurface Event Detection 369
7.1.5.2. Experiments of Subsurface Event Classification 372
7.1.6. Conclusion 376
References 376

7.2. Magneto-Inductive Tracking in Underground Environments 378

Traian E. Abrudan, Orfeas Kypris, Niki Trigoni, Andrew Markham
7.2.1. Introduction 378
7.2.1.1. Approaches to GPS-Denied Tracking 379
7.2.1.2. Magneto Inductive Technology 380
7.2.2. Channel Model 382
7.2.2.1. Source 382
7.2.2.2. Impact of Media 384
7.2.2.3. Receiver 386
7.2.2.4. Channel Model 387
7.2.3. Single Hop Localization 388
7.2.4. Multihop Localization 391
7.2.5. Applications of Underground MI positioning 393
7.2.5.1. Iteratively Deployable Positioning Architecture 393
7.2.5.2. Revealing Underground Animal Behavior 396
7.2.6. Challenges and Limitations 397
7.2.6.1. Path Loss 397
7.2.6.2. Distortion Due to Nearby Conducting Objects 400
7.2.7. Conclusion 401
References 401

7.3. Integration of UAVs With Underground Sensing: Systems and

Applications 403
Christian Wietfeld
7.3.1. Use Cases and Requirements 403
7.3.2. Communication-Aware Pairing Between UAVs and Underground
Sensing Systems 407
7.3.3. Example: Dam Monitoring and Information System 412
References 414

8. Underground Sensing Strategies for the Health Assessment of

Buried Pipelines 417
Sean M. O’Connor, Jerome P. Lynch, Mohammad Pour-Ghaz, Srinivasa
S. Nadukuru, Radoslaw L. Michalowski, Russell A. Green, Aaron Bradshaw,
W. Jason Weiss
 Contents xi

8.1. Introduction 417

8.2. Overview of Buried Pipeline Sensing Technology 419
8.3. System Architecture and Design 421
8.3.1. Test Facility 421
8.3.2. Pipe Segments 422
8.3.3. Instrumentation 423
8.3.4. Pipeline Assembly 427
8.3.5. Data Acquisition 428
8.3.6. Permanent Ground Displacement Simulation 429
8.4. Buried Wireless Sensing of Pipeline Behavior During PGD 429
8.4.1. Performance of Wireless Telemetry Underground 430
8.5. Assessment of Pipeline Responses and Damage 433
8.5.1. Pipeline Load 435
8.5.2. Joint Rotation and Translation 436
8.5.3. Pipe Strain Responses 440
8.5.4. Direct Joint Damage Sensing – Conductive Surface Sensors 442
8.5.5. Direct Joint Damage Sensing – Acoustic Emission 446
8.6. Conclusions 446
Acknowledgments 451
References 451

9. Outlook: Advanced Hybrid Sensing for Preemptive Response 455

Sibel Pamukcu, Liang Cheng
9.1. Introduction 455
9.2. Fiber-Optic (FO) Underground Sensor Networks 456
9.2.1. Fiber-Optic Chemical Sensors for Underground Measurements 458
9.2.2. Distributed Fiber-Optic Sensors for Underground Sensing 464
9.3. Future Research on Advanced Hybrid Sensing for Preemptive Response 478
9.3.1. Crowdsensing for Preemptive Response to Underground Events 478
9.3.2. Pipeline Monitoring With Hybrid Sensing Using WSiN, GPR, and
Crowdsensing 480
9.3.3. Land-Mine Detection Using Hybrid EM and Seismic-Acoustic
Sensing 485
References 485

Index 495
This page intentionally left blank
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS

Traian E. Abrudan
University of Oxford, Oxford, United Kingdom
Aaron Bradshaw
University of Rhode Island, Kingston, RI, USA
Erika Bustos
Centro de Investigación y Desarrollo Tecnológico en Electroquímica, S.C.,
Querétaro, Mexico
Liang Cheng
Lehigh University, Bethlehem, PA, USA
Nicholas de Battista
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
Vanessa Di Murro
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
Mohammed Elshafie
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
J.A. Garcia
Instituto Tecnológico de Atitalaquia, Atitalaquia, Mexico
Centro de Investigación y Desarrollo Tecnológico en Electroquímica S.C., Parque
Tecnológico Querétaro s/n, Sanfandila, Pedro Escobedo, Querétaro, Mexico
Centro de Investigaciones en Óptica A.C., León, Guanajuato, Mexico
Russell A. Green
Virginia Tech, Blacksburg, VA, USA
C.Y. Gue
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
Qi Han
Colorado School of Mines, Golden, CO, USA
Tissa H. Illangasekare
Colorado School of Mines, Golden, CO, USA

xiii
xiv List of Contributors

Magued Iskander
New York University, NY, USA
Anura P. Jayasumana
Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO, USA
Cedric Kechavarzi
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
Orfeas Kypris
University of Oxford, Oxford, United Kingdom
Rui Li
CSSC Marine Technology Co., Ltd., Shanghai, China
Jerome P. Lynch
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA
Andrew Markham
University of Oxford, Oxford, United Kingdom
Radoslaw L. Michalowski
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA
David Monzon-Hernandez Sr.
Centro de Investigaciones en Óptica A.C., León, Guanajuato, Mexico
Srinivasa S. Nadukuru
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA
Sean M. O’Connor
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, MI, USA
Sibel Pamukcu
Lehigh University, Bethlehem, PA, USA
Feng Pan
Beihang University, Beijing, China
Loizos Pelecanos
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
Mesut Pervizpour
Lehigh University, Bethlehem, PA, USA
 List of Contributors xv

Mohammad Pour-Ghaz
North Carolina State University, Raleigh, NC, USA

Abdul Salam
University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Lincoln, NE, USA

Kenichi Soga
University of California, Berkeley, CA, USA

Niki Trigoni
University of Oxford, Oxford, United Kingdom

Mehmet C. Vuran
University of Nebraska-Lincoln, Lincoln, NE, USA

W. Jason Weiss
Oregon State University, Corvallis, OR, USA

Christian Wietfeld
Communication Networks Institute (CNI), TU Dortmund University, Dortmund,
Germany

Michael Williamson
University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom

Tian Xia
University of Vermont, Burlington, VT, USA

Wen Xiao
Beihang University, Beijing, China

Xiaosu Yi
Beihang University, Beijing, China

Suk-Un Yoon
Samsung Electronics, Suwon, South Korea
This page intentionally left blank
PREFACE

This book is intended to compile theoretical and practical knowledge

about underground sensing applicable to monitoring buried infrastructure’s
integrity, and detecting and tracking underground events and hazards. Spe-
cific topics covered include acoustic, electromagnetic and optical sensing
and monitoring methods, ground penetration radar, EM-based wireless
underground sensor networks, fiber optic sensing and sensor networks,
wireless signal networks, magneto-inductive underground tracking, inte-
gration of UAVs with underground sensing, etc. The book is useful to
researchers and R&D engineers in academia, industry, and government
who are interested in advancing the underground sensing techniques and
developing new applications to meet the needs of the modern society.
The motivation for this project solidified after encountering substantial
number of inquiries from researchers and practicing engineers for an au-
thoritative text on underground sensing following a keynote talk on the
subject at the 2014 annual Geo-Congress of ASCE. It appeared that most
of the existing works remained either technology-specific or application-
specific, and were primarily found in academic papers distributed over
multiple disciplines. The main goal of the editors of this book project was
to provide a devoted reference that could aggregate essential information
from multiple disciplines in useful and categorical distributions. We hope
that this book will be useful to readers as a starting point for further guided
research, as they determine the best sensing technique or suite of techniques
in their underground projects, or jump-start their research and development
on the subject matter using the appropriate tools and paradigms.
This book is designed to be used in the context of providing a com-
prehensive review of existing underground sensing technologies, and as a
“tool box” for researchers and practitioners to help address underground
sensing and monitoring problems and predict future requirements for sus-
tainable sensing technologies. The first goal of the text is to bring to the
target audience the technical and practical knowledge of existing under-
ground sensing and monitoring methods based on the classification of their
functionality. The second goal is to introduce emerging technologies and
applications of sensing for environmental and geohazards in subsurface –
focusing on sensing platforms that can enable fully distributed measure-
ments. The third goal is to explore the implications of advanced sensing

xvii
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xviii Preface

paradigms in underground, such as hybrid-sensing that can meet demands

for preemptive and sustainable response to underground hazards.
This book manifests the multidisciplinary nature of underground sens-
ing. The areas of expertise of the contributors for this book and their con-
tributed contents span from civil and environmental engineering, electrical
engineering including opto-electronics engineering, computer engineer-
ing to computer science, chemistry, and other underground-sensing related
science disciplines. We want to express our gratitude to all the contribu-
tors for their comprehensive and highly valuable contributions to make this
book a truly multidisciplinary work to achieve the above-mentioned goals.
We also want to thank André Wolff for his insight in getting this book
project off the ground. We appreciate all members of the editorial and
production team of Elsevier, including but not limited to, Ken McCombs,
Jennifer Pierce, Mariana Kuhl, Sruthi Satheesh, Julie-Ann Stansfield and
Narmatha Mohan. Without their efforts, this book could not have been
completed.
Sibel Pamukcu, Liang Cheng
CHAPTER 1

Introduction and Overview of

Underground Sensing for
Sustainable Response
Sibel Pamukcu, Liang Cheng, Mesut Pervizpour
Lehigh University, Bethlehem, PA, USA

1.1 UNDERGROUND SENSING FOR ENVIRONMENTAL,

ECONOMIC, AND SOCIAL SUSTAINABILITY
Nationwide there is a pervasive issue of aging infrastructure and concerns
about transparency in government and industry decision-making around
our key systems – water, electricity, natural gas, oil, and transportation in-
frastructure (ASCE, 2017). For example, 10 year (2007–2016) average of
pipeline incidents was reported as 286 with 13 fatalities, 64 injuries, and
over $474 million property damage per year in 2017 by USDOT.1 Many
of the over 450,000 brownfield sites in US remain as potential sources of
pollution to human and environmental exposure. Many areas in urban cen-
ters, particularly in highly industrialized zones, contain persistent sources
of contamination due to past disposal practices. The regulatory discussions
for environmental pollution are driven by point concentration measure-
ments, which require monitoring mass flux of the contaminants into the
environment for risk and long-term sustainability assessments (EPA, 2012;
NRC, 2011; ITRC, 2010). Approximately 20% of land in continental US
is underlain by “karst terrain” susceptible to sinkhole events. These events
tend to occur when water-drainage and storage patterns are altered, re-
sulting in loss of life and substantial property damage (Kuniansky et al.,
2016). These potential hazards and related incidents can undercut consumer
confidence, create fear, subsequently jumpstart debate on infrastructure, en-
vironment, and the societal factors that influence government and industry
decision-making. Consumers and citizens may become fearful of what they
do not know – for example, how can they protect themselves and their

1 http://www.phmsa.dot.gov/pipeline/library/data-stats/pipelineincidenttrends.

Underground Sensing.
DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-12-803139-1.00001-1 1
Copyright © 2018 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
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The kedge was still on the bar with a bit of furring on end of warp
for a buoy. Am going to take a picture of that anchor stock, for
under conditions it was shipshape and Bristol fashion. Then we
shipped all weight over to starboard and got holes in bilge out of
water, threw over little anchor to keep company with big one, and
after a mug up turned in at 1 o’clock. Since leaving Beaufort some
42 hours before I had had only one or two 1 hour naps, but felt all
right and ready for what next which I still felt would come soon.
December 12th. Had to turn Henry out at 3 a.m. in drizzling cold rain
for tide was out, we were over on our bilge, and now was chance to
bail out launch if ever. His report was soon made that you could as
easily bail out the ocean for her stern was split wide open, likewise
her bottom and several planks. Now what do you make of that? Just
after fixing her all up tight two days before at Beaufort. Nothing
more to be done about it, however, so turned in again clinging to my
transom like a bat to a rafter. Went to sleep in a minute, but H. was
a bit nervous at the roar of the breakers close aboard and couldn’t
do much in way of sleep. About 5 o’clock the black night ripped wide
open in northwest and down came a sizzling norther. Gee whiz! how
it blew for a few hours. With flooding tide our anchors held all right.
Day came, and in the early light we could see the bow of the launch
come out of water like a white shark, turn and plunge again to the
bottom. Kind of consoling sight with half a gale blowing off shore
and no chance to work further into inlet, for with ballast gone I
hardly dared to put cloth on her. Had good breakfast and Scotty was
mighty companionable and seemed perfectly content with the way
everything was going. About 8 o’clock a man turned up in a skiff and
came on board. I surely was glad to see that skiff and that man, too.
He remarked that it was some blustering day and I admitted to a
little ozone in the air. He said he thought our launch was sunk. He
was a very truthful man. I gave him eggs on toast and coffee at
once. While he was eating, tide turned ebb and along came our
ground tackle and we for the bar once more. “My man,” says I, “cut
out the egg and coffee habit, jump right into your skiff, underrun
that anchor and carry it up stream.” He was a sailor all right and
with no back talk, he was away on the job. First one anchor and
then the other. I kept him at it and soon had her kedged all snug
and comfy out of harm’s way. Then we hauled the bric-a-brac of a
launch to the beach. “Good,” says I, “now you can walk the beach
home for I need your skiff in my business.” He was all right that man
and he lived in the “piney woods.” We talked politics and he allowed
that rather than be a politician, he would live in the “sticks” with the
coons and wildcats where a man could get “hisself” a little sleep and
quiet. Bye and bye we put him ashore and he started away for his
shanty somewhere, a lonely looking figure trudging through the
sand, head down against the gale. So I read the signs right after all,
and I felt justified in taking the chance I did, for this blowing to sea
in a December norther is no joke. Where all my trouble came was
not understanding the difference between a skiff such as I am used
to and a launch which sinks and holds onto bottom like a rock. You
watch me next time. When tide dropped I sent down my throat
halliard tackle and after rigging up some sand anchors with oars,
poles, &c, we greased some slide boards, and to Henry’s surprise
and joy hauled the launch up high and dry. It was all nuts to me.
Everything smashed up, but time, tackle and tools, to fix it all up
again. I turned in early for some good few hours’ sleep but had to
roust out at slack water to place anchors one up and the other
downstream, for tide ran some 3 knots or better and only a narrow
gut to swing in. Guess charts are of little use in these places, for my
piney wood’s man said it had been ten years since there was any
water in this inlet and my chart gave me 4 ft. on the bar at low tide.
December 13-20. During these days we were marooned at New
Inlet, as desolate a spot on our Atlantic coast as a man could pick
out for the purpose. The fear of a northeast gale with heavy sea was
constantly on our minds for that might easily spell imprisonment for
days if not weeks. We lay in a narrow little gutter where the tide ran
viciously, making constant shifting of anchors both night and day a
necessity. I must utterly fail to give any idea of the great loneliness
of the beach stretching 1000 miles on either side and trembling to
the constant crash of roaring surf. When I stood and watched H.
walk away, in a few yards he became but a speck on the face of that
limitless sand. When we walked together it somehow felt better to
hold hands and talk little. It was Swiss Family Robinson with us from
daylight until dark, and as the weather was kind, we jumped right at
work to be done and enjoyed our big workshop and the ever
changing color of the scene.
With the dropping of the gale, we sent down throat halliard tackle
and with aid of sand anchors made from oars, poles, &c., &c., we
hauled the launch above high water mark. Boards ripped from a
deserted fisherman’s shanty made material for new bottom, and
gratings, seats and driftwood, we knocked together for a work
bench. It took us three days to repair the launch and when we
finished, the whole stern was made up of canvas patches, putty and
copper tacks. The engine was full of salt water and sand, so we had
to take it all to pieces and rebuild it. The spark coil was soaking and
that we took apart, boiled in fresh water and repacked in a preserve
jar with red flannel. What will we do now for flannel if we get sore
gozzles? We worked slowly and carefully for it was no fool’s
business, and when we had all in shipshape order once more, you
should have seen the merry twinkle in the mate’s eye when the little
engine started off at the first turn. We put the Mascot on the beach
and patched the hole two foot long in her side with a bit of canvas
well painted and laid over some sail battens. This patch was my
pride and has never been removed. Scotty was the best company as
long as we left her on the Mascot, but when we took her ashore for
a bit of exercise she promptly had a most spectacular fit and I got
her aboard again by the tail. Wonder if I will have to live forever and
ever on the Mascot with Scotty. Might do worse.
In many ways the beach is strange. The surface only seems to be
firm, and that not very firm either. A few inches underneath is
quicksand, and if you stand still you begin to sink pronto. Anchors
hold when they first get a grip, but later when they sink away, they
come home as if bedded in pudding. The beach is bare of stones
and wreckage for it all drops out of sight. My kedge anchor warp
and all my ballast was gone the next morning after we went on the
bar. Believe my brother in Singapore would have more chance of
finding them than we have. H. and I got up a scheme with compass
fixed on a board and started one morning to find the ballast by aid
of compass variation. Theoretically the device should have produced
the ballast, but it didn’t, and we had to take on some half ton of
sand in gunny sacks.
On the night of December 20th we took launch and sounded nearly
four feet of water on the bar at top of the tide, and as the roll was
fairly easy, we jumped the canvas to her and went to sea nicking our
heel only once as we plunged through the tumbling surf. Looking
back on our little prison we saw an old, black razor-back quietly
rooting in the sand near the remains of our little work bench. He
was the first, last and only visitor to our land of exile. That night I
anchored just north of Cape Fear, a wind-swept barren, forbidding
bit of desolate sand and stunted trees. The night was calm and fair
or I should have had my worries, for in the darkness I didn’t dare to
run the slew between Cape Fear and Frying Pan Shoals and the
shoals stretched twelve miles to sea and we turned in with the roar
of the breakers in our ears. The next morning we worked through
the slew which is an easy passage under favorable conditions, and
putting putt-putt astern made quiet anchorage off the wharves of
Southport.
December 23rd. Comes with nasty cold rain and blow northeast.
Almost impossible to get H. out of his bunk and fear he has no
enthusiasm for the sport. The morning at darning socks. This little
town has two banks, but no darning needles. The p.m. worse than
a.m. and a government tug made us turn out in rain to shift berth.
Tied up along side of a launch and cow horn on bowsprit ripped a
whopping big hole in launch covering. Put our launch on beach this
morning for little more overhauling and found her sunk by the seas
which have been increasing during the day. O dear! O dear! Wonder
if she will break up right size for our stove during tonight. Good big
mail from home forwarded from Charleston. Everything all right
there, and so who cares for the weather? Folks mighty good about
writing and can have no idea how much it is appreciated.
December 24th. Comes with wind shifting by south and west to
northwest where it blew itself clear with a regular squealer. In the
morning we visited the old launch on the beach and as expected
found her full of water, batteries run out and coil once more soaking
in salt water. Hitched on two tackles luff on luff and began
laboriously hauling her up beach. Along came 4 or 5 natives who,
imbued with Xmas spirit, grabbed hold and carried her up for us.
Then aboard for a good day’s rest and loaf. It is sure strenuous work
this driving boats, but to my mind there is no such complete rest as
is found in a well warmed, snug little cabin. Rolled in my bunk, with
Scotty asleep in my lap, my book and my knitting within reach, I
eased up to the limit. Discovered old Mascot complaining a little
around rudder port. Nothing serious, but always a mean place to get
at especially if have to unhang rudder. Evening came, and we went
ashore for our usual plate of fried oysters. The boys are out with tin
pans and horns making the noise of a southern Christmas. H. and I
both a bit homesick and lonesey. It is my first Xmas away from
home in twenty-four years. I am sure a devil of a way off. We have
each bought things for the other’s stocking and will live up to
traditions if we sink her. Beautiful night and just our chance to be
away with light northerly. In two days when we are ready wind will
probably haul to southard again. Don’t it beat all?
December 25th. Christmas. Turned out to be a bright, frosty morning
with a skim of ice in pans on deck. Great excitement, for there hung
our two stockings filled with presents which we had hung up last
night. Looked kind of Christmasy anyway. Breakfast over, we opened
our bundles, dolled up cabin with two little red paper bells and
would have decked Scotty out with a red ribbon, but just then she
heard something like a train of cars somewhere and flew to snug
quarters in lazaret. Took things easy, but put in an hour or two on
launch. At 3 p.m. began preparations for grand feast. Menu to be,
raw oyster cocktail, roast pork, applesauce, spuds and a mince pie.
Everything going like mice when, just as pie went into oven, round
came the wind and away went my fire draught. After hours of
coaxing we finally sat down to some pork scraps stewed in fry pan
and boiled spuds at 8 p.m. Pie did finally dry up enough to be called
cooked and was not so bad. Scotty appeared this p.m. and with her
pretty new ribbon around her neck, enjoyed a little oyster stew
made of three oysters. So ends Christmas 1912 which I had
expected to spend in Jacksonville.

December 26th. Threatened to feed H. on tar and oakum if he

wasn’t smarter about turning out. To the beach where we worked on
launch. It is all very snug and comfy on this little beach. At the base
of a big skeleton wooden tower is the Club-room of the fifteen
Southport pilots who daily do congregate for lengthy gams and
pleasant smokes. Now and then one more energetic than the rest
climbs slowly the stairs of the old tower and sweeps the sea with spy
glass in search of ships that seem to never come. They come and
whittle sticks and talk to H. and me, and we are tied to their private
wharf where the sign reads “Landing forbidden,” and they will know
the reason why if we can’t stay all winter if we want to. The boat-
builder is nearby, the storekeeper across the way and the sun shines
warmly on us all and saps the energy out of H. and me, and we are
glad to sit and listen to the yarns spun in this softly spoken southern
tongue.
The signs of Christmas are about gone. The two skiffs dragged up in
front of the little bank building are again on the beach, and the
wheelbarrow and ash barrel, which for past twenty-four hours have
decorated the weather signal pole, have been taken down, and in
their place are again flying the dreaded northeast storm warnings.
Down came the rain just after lunch so it was scuttle on board and
spend a delightfully quiet afternoon with my book. Quahaug
pancakes for supper. Not so much because we wanted them, and
indeed it was wet work opening them in the rain, but Scotty dotes
on quahaugs. To-day we once more repacked and fitted up our
much abused electric coil and away went little motor at first whirl of
wheel.
December 27th. Comes with banging against wharf and slatting of
rigging. Northeaster down on us again in all its glory. Down, down
slipped the barometer and presto, round flew the wind into
southwest and the fun began. We were pretty well up under the
weather shore, but there was rake enough with the tide to kick up a
lively jump which pounded against our stern and slatted us about
promiscuously. The wind screamed, and we could do nothing but
lash our helm amidship and get out extra dock lines. With spinnaker
pole for fender we were taking no damage. About 2 p.m. the wind
hauled a point and rain stopped. With the clearing, things began
moving on the dock. From the pilot’s tower signals were seen flying
from the Cape Fear Lighthouse which read, “vessel ashore on Frying
Pan.” Off went four pilots in their big motorboat. Scree-eech went
the whistle of a tug at end of wharf and down from the village
tumbled the crew, and it was cast off and away with black smoke
rolling from her stack. I could have gone with H. on the tug but why
take a chance when there was nothing we could do, and as the
captain said nothing he could do either in the sea that must be
running. Out from the cove to the south of us shot the big power
lifeboat of the Southport station, and we watched her head towards
the breakers which we could see jumping in air on the harbor bar. By
six o’clock the tug and pilots were back. They reported a big four-
master bound east was almost out of water some six miles from
shore but that the lifesavers were standing by on north side of shoal.
Another fierce gale is springing up from west and northwest as I
write, and the sea outside must be truly awful. I hope with all my
heart and soul that those poor devils are safe ashore. I believe H.
begins to realize more fully what I had on my own mind the night I
tried to jump the New Inlet Bar.
December 28th. Ice on deck again this morning, but a day to make a
man’s heart glad. First thing was arrival of big power lifeboat with
the good news that at ten o’clock the night before they had rescued
all the crew of the stranded schooner. The vessel herself was lumber
laden and a gang went off to her to-day in hopes to get cargo out
and to lighten the ship so that she might be pulled off. The day was
busy for us with completing repairs on launch, getting stores on
board and making ready for another bid for warmer climes. Until to-
day my spears and poles have been but a miserable nuisance, but
when the bight of a line caught the handle of my pump rod and
twitched it right overboard, it was the eel spear for mine. Tide was
running smartly and I could just reach bottom. Slowly and with great
care I poked about in the mud and at last was rewarded by pulling
up three feet of old rubber hose. Better luck next time and I just fell
upon that mud-covered pump handle when it crossed the rail. An eel
spear would sure be a handy thing in any household.
December 29th. A peach of a morning with light northerly airs, a
good barometer and everybody telling us to be up and off for now
was the chance. We were soon ready to start when I found centre-
board jammed in the box. Hard, too. At low tide, when aground,
something had wedged it hard and fast. Had to pound it out with aid
of a big piece of iron piping. It was noon before we waved good-bye
to our friends the Southport pilots and slipped out of the harbor
down the long 80 miles of beach to Georgetown or 120 miles,
nautical, to Charleston. At four o’clock, wind failing, we put on little
helpmeet and jogged along our four knots right merrily. The sun set
red, but with plenty of cloud. The engine began to skip about 10
o’clock and from then on until two, gave us a most remarkable
exhibition of skips, jumps and shakes. At 2 a.m. it made two or three
quiet little chuck-chucks and died. About this same time the
barometer got in some fancy steps and dropped 4 points in two
hours. Heavy cloud made the night fearfully dark, and the sea began
to pick up in a long, swinging ground swell. I wished myself well
back in Southport you bet. By dead reckoning Southport was some
50 miles away and Georgetown jetty about 30 only, so it had to be
Georgetown. The breeze with some rain came at southwest very
light and I jogged slowly along.
December 30th. Morning broke dull and sullen. Barometer still
dropping and little whitey gray woolies blowing across the dark
clouds. The ground swell was heaving in from sea and there was no
chance for running inlets. With the light came a waspish puff of air
out of southwest and on top of that one another, with such venom in
it, I wasted no time on speculation, but clapped in two reefs and
stood off shore. In the shake of a lamb’s tail the wickedest kind of a
sea jumped up, but Henry’s stomach beat it at that. The rolling swell
checked up on the shoal ground for we were in less than 3 fathoms
and was met and crossed by the sea leaping with the southwester
which was even then heaving me to my cockpit-rail. In half an hour
it was put on life lines, douse sail and tuck in my storm reef. Canvas
thrashing viciously and had to put watch tackle on leech earing
before we could haul out. Laid ship to off shore, hauled up my
board, lashed wheel and gave launch 10 fathoms of line. Didn’t
know whether to run to sea for deeper water or take chance of
ground swell not breaking and hang onto the beach. Decided to
hang on for I am bound to Florida and not the Riviera. All day long
we were knocked and smashed about by an indescribable jumble of
crooked water. H. and I spent our time below trying to cling onto our
transoms for it was not particularly safe on deck, and we crawled out
only every two hours to lower sail, wear ship and stand on the other
tack. There is a good bit of worry to a day like that, especially when
you have a two foot hole covered only with thin canvas in the side of
your boat. There would have been a mighty sight more worry if old
Mascot hadn’t shown us at the very start off that she was quite able
and willing to play the game. With her wheel amidships, she looked
up into it grandly and never had a bucket of green water in the
cockpit.

By afternoon we saw the launch was in trouble, and settling pretty

fast. It was soon bail or lose her. H. stripped pretty close to the buff
and I tied the bowline round him myself. Then we worked the launch
up to leeward and managed to unlace a little bit of cover so when a
chance came H. jumped in like a squirrel and away he went with me
tending painter and life line. He had no trouble bailing out the water,
but when it came to balancing himself on the little forward deck
while relacing the cover, he had to face a truly sporting proposition.
Kind of made my heart jump to see him perched on the bows of that
little skiff when a big breaking comber would pick her up and surge
her down to leeward where the next sea would put her out of sight
for ages. At last he did the trick and mighty carefully I worked the
launch up under our lee until with a good jump and yank on the line
I landed him in the cockpit again. Cured his seasickness anyway for
after warming up below he lit up his pipe as perky as you please.

During all this ringtum Scotty was playing her part well. Not once did
we leave the deck tired, wet and anxious to stretch out in rubber
boots and soaking oilskins on our transoms, but Scotty would curl up
on our shoulder or in our lap all snuggled close with mighty
comforting purr. She was a dear little companion, and in the midst of
the circus we cooked her one of her own little oyster stews as a
mark of our appreciation. Towards night the wind let go and as we
drew in toward the beach, fishermen built big bonfires to warn us
away from an inlet which they thought I might be fool enough to try
and run. No more inlets for me. The sea was too heavy to anchor so
we again prepared to make it watch and watch and let the boat jog
off and on under her bit of canvas for we were too tired to make
more sail and the night at best looked full of trouble.

December 31st. Found us slatting about in dead calm. Barometer

not rising and heavy cloud. By two o’clock a.m. the sea had quieted
to a long, greasy roll and I plumped over the big hook in 3 fath. and
turned in for three or four hours’ snooze. Turned out at six and
cooked breakfast which tasted good after some forty-eight hours of
more or less cracker and cheese diet. Day broke at seven and a
mighty ugly looking day it was with dark storm clouds all about and
again those waspish little white ones scudding ahead of the black
spots. The breeze struck in light at northeast and with it came the
rain. The drops were good, big, fat ones and barometer was not
sliding down so I hoped for no serious trouble, but down here the
easter is only spoken about in whispers and H. and I didn’t speak
about it at all. We jumped all sail on at once, up yank and fanned
along. Got H. to try his launch and was rewarded by a merry little
puff puff, and we were off. Found a lot of sediment in carbureter and
in gasoline, evidently corrosion from tank after being filled with salt
water. We kept her skipping and jumping along by continually
moving throttle and needle valve. Rain and mist often shut out the
shore but the light following breeze didn’t have the twang of trouble
in it and by my dead reckoning I had only some 20 knots to go
before reaching Georgetown jetties which stretch two miles to sea
and couldn’t be missed unless it blew on and forced me off shore. I
had run my time out at one o’clock and still through the haze that
old sand beach stretched ever southward without a break. Worries
began again, but in half an hour we sighted the lighthouse and in
another half rounded the end of the north jetty and ran into quiet
water.

“Way up the river Pedee

Way up the river Pedee
Where the moon shines bright
And the stars give light,
Way up the river Pedee.”

How we shook hands and yelled it out. The rain poured, the wind
drew northwest dead ahead, but tide and a strong one was fair and
the launch was hitting it hop, skip and jump, so who cares.
About six miles upstream and six miles below Georgetown we noted
on our chart the entrance to the little creek which is the beginning of
the inside route towards Charleston. With the last of the light of the
last day of the year we found the little opening in the marsh and
snuggled into the quiet water mighty gladly and ran her plump
aground on the mud of the eastern bank. We were too tickled at
ending our long razzle dazzle to hurry about pushing off, especially
as tide was flooding in river outside. There’s where we missed it for
tide was dropping in the creek and soon, work all we could, we
never budged her and had to run out guy lines to keep from bilging.
Mighty little difference that made to us for we were in that kind of
shape that lets you go right on working. Not very hard and with
mighty little reasoning in it, but still working. While we were mussing
around we heard the cry of hounds and soon a big doe took water
not twenty yards away, slowly swam the creek and with much effort
managed to crawl up the other bank about tuckered out. She looked
at us a moment, and then disappeared in the high sedge. The
hounds were close up and soon hustling up and down the bank, but
none would take water and H. and I sat down to spend our new
year’s eve mighty well pleased to think of that deer snugly resting up
in some thicket just as we were in our warm little cabin. Honest
injun, I was never better pleased to make snug harbor in my life for
I had been practically sixty hours without sleep except at odd half
hours and had been driving boat under strenuous conditions for over
fifty hours. I should have been all in, but I wasn’t at all and I
couldn’t see or feel that I didn’t stand the racket as well as I used to
in my twenties. Gee, but it’s fine to be in such shape again. H. pulled
along all right, too, but insisted upon going to sleep anywhere and
everywhere. I must break him of this habit if possible, for it leaves
him scarcely any time for eating and none for work.
January 1st, 1913. New Year’s Day. Comes pouring rain, and at 2:30
a.m. for mine. Got Mascot afloat but couldn’t handle her alone in
tideway and had to call H. on deck. Hanged if the boy wasn’t asleep
again. Soon snugged up and after a hot mug-up turned in for some
good rest. Turned out about eight and felt fine. Barometer rising.
Sky clearing. Wind a beauty at northwest and just what the doctor
ordered for round Cape Romain to Charleston outside. Nix on the
outside said H. when I finally shook him awake. Afraid I can never
beat any ambition into the lad. Can’t understand what a funny lot of
insides I must have. I am only just over being pretty well scared up
and am already beginning to want to try it again. I’ll get “ketched”
good and plenty some day, but I hope that when I do I may be
alone. The day was warm, bright and full of sunlight. We dolled up
the ship. Cleaned up gasoline tank and in the afternoon walked into
the big forest of live oak and long-leaved pine. A day of perfect
content and rest. Boiled and roasted a ham which turned out
deliciously. Only one thing to mar the peace of our new year’s day
and that was a sharp attack of delirium tremens suffered by Scotty.
During the blow a small can of white paint upset in cockpit and I
suspicion that she ate some. Anyway her tail went right over her
back like that animal’s in the pictures of our old geographies which
hangs all its young ones upside down on its tail. Her hind legs went
200 to the minute and her front ones only 25. This landed her
repeatedly on her head which must have been distressing. In an
hour she seemed all O. K. again and except for being a bit dopey
has stayed so. Mighty anxious we were, for Scotty is full 50% of this
trip. Today an old nigger rowing down stream stopped to gam. He
said was all kinds of varmint hereabout. Coons, possums, rabbits,
deer and turkeys. No lions or tigers except some 30 miles back in
the lumber. Said wild cows wouldn’t hurt us, and that children could
walk alone on any of the roads, which was both interesting and
comforting. A tug with big ¼ mile log boom swung by us at noon.
These are mean, unruly visitors and are mighty apt to do you
damage. This one got by without hitting us, but we had to fend off
once or twice. For supper we broached a bottle of White Rock and
with much ceremony toasted family and absent friends. So ended
our New Year’s, 1913.
January 2nd. Woke about 2 a.m. to a fearful bump and swash. What
next? says I, and tumbled out. Out of the inky black under my bows
I saw a big dark shape lift out of water some five or six feet and fall
back with a swash. Alligators this time I bet. No such thing, but a big
30 ft. log 12 to 15 inches in diameter caught in a bight of one of our
lines. Had good luck in getting it clear and stranded it inside of us
where it now lies. “Something doing from one to eleven at the Old
Howard.” On deck in a hurry again at four when a tug steamed by
with what looked like another log boom but proved to be something
else. Out again for breakfast at seven and Henry, well provisioned,
started for Georgetown in the launch to get gasoline, provisions,
etc., while I stayed aboard to keep ship. Engine not going right yet,
and I listened long to its jumps and skips until out of hearing. If he
finds a good engine man he may stay overnight and get it fixed up
shipshape for we must depend upon it entirely from now on. Come
back soon “mon petit Asticot” for I miss you sadly and feel pretty far
away among the wild cows.
Scandalously tricky weather do we have. Here H. started at 9 this
morning with as pretty a day as one could ask for and old barom.
showing nothing else. By eleven clouds made up from south, glass
began a slide and by 2 p.m. it was pelting rain with barometer still
on the toboggan. Rain all p.m. and all evening. I couldn’t expect H.
to come back, but how I did listen for the skip-and-go-one sound of
that little motor. I missed him like the devil and no mistake. Hope he
isn’t nosing round out there in rain and dark with engine broken
down and no Scotty. Had a fine black bean soup with croutons all
ready for him, too. I am used to being on a boat alone, but I am
mighty lonesey tonight just the same. This is our first night apart in
three months and a black creek in the marsh is none too cheerful a
place at night anyway. By nine o’clock things were doing. Wind
pricking on every minute, rain swishing across decks with roar and
barometer still on the drop. I turned in but not to sleep. I had my
spinnaker pole driven deep in the clay mud at edge of deep water,
but it was a flimsy thing to depend on. There had been no flood tide
all day, an uncanny sort of thing. By eleven o’clock the gale was on
at south and a full-fledged one to boot. I dressed and crawled into
my boots and oilers for the tide had started flooding with a rush and
every half hour I had to raise the guy lines on my pole to keep it in
position. The barometer dropped to 29, nine points in 12 hours.
Don’t remember such a drop in many a day. How high the tide might
go was guesswork, but if the westerly shift which I knew would
come caught me on top of a big tide it would be into the bulrushes
for little Harry and make a duck stand out of Mascot.
Now that was quite a longish night, too. Sitting still, listening to the
howl and swish of the gale and speculating on where H. was and
where I was going to, for I was out on the open marsh not snugged
away up among the woods between high banks. When the wind
took a whiffle down the canal the old Mascot would shake all over
and lean right to it. Tide kept a-coming and I kept a-crawling out on
hands and knees to raise my guy lines until the top of the pole was
level with my trunk deck and the stick bending and cracking at every
charge of wind until I felt sure it must go. I knew that tide must be
’way above common, but it was too dark to see how high it exactly
was. Given another foot rise and I would have been all right for pole
was slanting under boat then. It was four o’clock in the morning and
tide had been coming about nine hours.
January 3rd. Bet I was pleased when I crawled out at 4:30 and
found end of pole at same level. Crawled right below again and
mugged up on hot beef tea. Five o’clock came and tide had dropped
a foot. Then the westerly shift came with a whoop and I thought
Scotty and I were surely bound for the meadows, but that old pole
buckled, bent and creaked and held. Great scissors, how it blew.
Couldn’t stand on deck nohow. Just had to crawl and cling on.
Day broke with clearing skies and found me with bows pretty well up
on bank, but stern still in deep water and I make no doubt I can pull
her off if this northwester will only blow out as I expect it will before
another high water or somebody comes along who will carry me out
an anchor to help hold her off. I have ground tackle enough to
handle her all right, but without tender am entirely helpless. Poor
little Scotty feels these busy nights dreadfully, and is too sleepy and
tired to eat a thing. I feel fine and had a good breakfast off of the
last Pt. Judith mackerel. I can’t believe that since last Saturday
night, and it is Friday now, I have not had four hours of consecutive
sleep. I haven’t ache, pain or nerves. Just as I used to be on the old
Raven thirty odd years ago. I had to acknowledge later that I did not
stand the care, worry and loss of sleep as well as I thought.
Between Beaufort and Charleston I lost seven pounds in weight, and
again put my eyes almost completely out of commission. H. showed
a gain of fifteen pounds in his weight and I begin to wonder for
whose health are we traveling anyway.
The clear, westerly gale has continued all day and barometer has
moved up only 2/10. Not an inch of tide has come in during the
whole day and like a bat I have lived, clinging literally to the rafters,
for the boat is very sharply listed. How such days go it is hard to say.
You write log and a few letters. Cook your meals, read, smoke,
snooze a bit, knit a bit and presto the day is done. Of course H. did
not come down river and I am looking forward to another night
alone, but I think a peaceful one, for the wind can’t hurt me as I am,
and I don’t believe tide can come unless wind drops. I am not going
to write to-morrow’s date heading now, however, for things move
quickly round here and we may have another eight hands around by
midnight.
January 4th. The night was delightfully peaceful and how I did sleep
it out. The wind went down and morning came clear, bright and with
a flooding tide that soon put me afloat again. While cooking
breakfast I listened to something familiar in the sound of a distant
motor and pretty soon, round the point swung H. with the launch
going perfectly. You bet flag went to masthead as he stepped over
side and we had one big joyful reunion. O, what a good, happy
breakfast we did have. What fun it was to swap lies about our
several experiences. He had twice tried to reach me, but weather
had driven him back. He had spent a night at a southern boarding
house where his roommate was drunk and unbuckled a big Colt’s 44
when he went to bed. He had found motor trouble rested entirely in
electric coil, of which we had made two soups, so buying another
was all O. K. and engine going as well as ever. As a relic and for
what it has done, we still think of keeping our coil so carefully
preserved in red flannel and sealed in pickle jar, for it helped push us
many an anxious, weary mile. The inside route from here is so
crooked and so shallow in many places that it seems silly to
undertake it when it is only 54 miles with two intervening harbors
outside. Even H. with stimulus of warm sun and bright skies agrees
to tackle it again and so I shall run down to jetty to-night and get
away early to-morrow. The wind still hangs southwest most
persistently and I must keep a weather eye open.
January 5th. Had at least one good, quiet night but I was kind of
wakeful and didn’t do it justice. Morning came a peach and tucking
little helpmeet behind we were off at eight on the first of the ebb.
Found a jumble of rolypoly seas outside breakwater, but with fair
tide logged our 4 knots without sail as it was flat calm. Queer
looking gulls around here, wings in the middle, bodies with great
long pointed ends. Look just like some Boston people. Scotty began
the day with another of her runabouts and retreated to the lazaret
as usual. She came out in about an hour; saw or heard something
and went all to the bad again. So much so that we had to shut her
below fearing she would jump overboard. Never see no such sight.
She has no fit spasm at all, just goes amuck with some kind of fear.
We chugged merrily along and at 2 p.m. had Cape Romain with its
miles of sand shoals abeam. As the chance looked good with
easterly airs, we sent up the rag and let her run for Bull’s Bay some
12 knots farther along. Barometer climbing up to 30-1/10 began to
make me think a bit for as soon as it passes 30 things begin to
happen with us. The afternoon grew more and more to look like
storm. The easter freshened to a smart breeze and we were mighty
glad at 5 o’clock to haul into shallow Bull’s Bay through the channel
near the lighthouse and drop anchor in the little river which begins
the inside route to Charleston. We did 36 knots to-day in 9½ hours
and nearly all with little kicker which never went better, and H. is
justly proud. After a good supper of corn beef the mate reported fire
in the oven and sure thing, my kindlings drying were all ablaze and
such a mess and smoke before we got them out. Scotty appeared
for supper and made a good meal but seems not entirely over her
fright yet. Nine o’clock as I write and wind pricking on northeast.
You bet it is good to be in this quiet little hole in the wall and not
batting around outside. I figure that by coming outside to-day we
saved several days of tedious inland work in very shallow water.
From here to-morrow I can go to Charleston outside, weather fitting,
or inside if things don’t look right.
January 6th. Bilged during the night and mine the weather bunk as
usual. Had wonderful line of dreams and woke H. to ask him if he
had pulled eel spear out of the mud and tied the crab net solid. You
see we lost our whole bundle of spears, grains and harpoon iron
when I bilged so heavily the night of the gale at Georgetown. My
keel caught on the top of the bank and I went right on my beam
ends. The scupper plugs alone kept me from filling and everything
went to leeward. I just managed to keep stove covers on. Sorry they
are gone, but so far they have been non-essentials and much in the
way.
Turned out to find one of those mornings which first you know all
about and then you don’t. Regular gulf weather with warm, damp
easterly breeze. Could see nothing but worry and fret outside so on
turn of tide, we put kicker behind and headed for the woods and hay
fields. Spent a truly delightful morning twisting in and out the
narrow waterway leading through the most gigantic piece of salt
marsh I have ever seen. Some few little hell-divers gave us both a
chance to show the weakness of our sporting eye. I finally nailed
one for Scotty who turned out to-day as chipper as ever. We had
alternate bright sunlight and dark cloud and the colors were
wonderful. The brightest of bright blues and emerald greens, bright
yellows and pearl grays. The distance always framed by the dark line
of heavy pine and the foreground by café au lait oyster bars. At
12:30 just in time for lunch we ran quietly but decidedly aground
and folded tents. As we ate we heard the one o’clock whistles
blowing in Charleston. All about us are yellow legs, curlew, duck and
plover, but at this low tide they are feeding on the flats and I only
see them afar off. Henry hears them calling but being a bit deaf, I
get no sound of it. A little tedious that. We floated and were away by
3:30 and on and on through the marsh as before. Passed the mouth
of inlets and I tried in vain to get H. to enthuse on running outside
for rest of the way. By 5:30 and as it was growing dark we hit a
middle ground and stopped just in time for supper. Fine oyster stew
we had from the little native oysters; H. picked up a basketful in a
few minutes at noon. They are small, very sweet and delicate, and
grow six or eight together in a cluster with edges as sharp as knives.
We saw the darkies as we came along gathering them in their bare
feet. I mean the darkies, not the oysters, had bare feet.

Floated again after supper and we dropped one anchor up stream

and one down for the night which came dark and with fog.
January 7th. Turned out to find pouring rain and thick, thick fog.
Leisurely good breakfast and with rain letting up after we slipped
away only to run ashore a quarter of a mile. By quick work we
dragged her into deeper water and settled down to a loaf until fog
should lift. Soon after this a motor tug came by with a scow
alongside. Wonderful how these natives can find their way in these
crooked slews. Just then the tug took a jump in the air and the
nigger pilot near shot out the window and there they were for the
rest of this day. We had most delicious fried oysters for luncheon.
Must get to a city pretty soon for yesterday, when lacing on sail
cover, I laced my starboard whisker to the mast. After lunch we
started again and went about 200 yds. and fetched up some more.
One thing is very satisfactory round here; to go aground is neither
strange, uncommon nor a subject of ridicule. “Everybody’s doing it.”
This morning we allowed it was Charleston or bust to-day. I guess
the busts win.
Yet one more guess, for tide came and we went another 100 yds.
Then tide came some more and we were off and away. Through a
drawbridge and so out into Charleston Harbor where we passed
close to Fort Sumpter and then over to the City where we anchored
in open roadstead with considerable tide off the fine clubhouse of
the Carolina Yacht Club at 5 p.m., just four weeks to the day from
Beaufort, and we had allowed four days at longest. We poseyed
right up and went ashore where a member of the club most
courteously gave us a stranger’s card and then to P. O. for lots of
good news from home and so to a little restaurant for a good bite to
eat. Mighty hot and sticky ashore with steam rising everywhere.
Most enervating. Our legs going all wibbly, wobbly so. Mighty glad to
get on board again where it is snug, peaceful and quiet. Scotty much
to the bad again this evening with a real, genuine fit. Don’t know
what to do for her and am very glad she has lately taken a fancy to
sleep with H.
Turned in only to be turned out by Scotty who refused to have her fit
comfortably in the lazaret, and proposed having it and actually did
have it in the cabin. H. hid under his blanket, but I was brave, faced
the danger and got Scotty’s initials scratched all over my bare feet.
Shipwreck is nothing to a wet cockpit, bare feet, dark night and a
fitting cat. Soused her with cold water and bundled her away under
cockpit for the night. At four o’clock in the morning H. woke to find
her cuddled to sleep most contentedly on his blanket, so that danger
is for the moment past.
January 8th. Turned out to a most muggy, foggy enervating day with
thermometer at 75 degrees. Decided we better keep moving her
southward, and if we ever get any time have it at the far end and on
the return trip when the country should be at its best. So it was on
shore with anchor for a new stock and to get a kedge anchor and
things too numerous to mention but which sadly depleted my
finances. To cap the climax, word comes from home that wifey has
decided to keep what money H. had for Christmas and I could
advance it to him. Don’t that beat all? Such a bully dinner of steak
and fixings. Such a glorious hot bath and after that a long session
with tonsorial artist. Then tumbled everything on board and by gum
if up didn’t go northwest storm warnings. No place to take a twister,
this Charleston. So up anchor and into the clubhouse wharf where
we tied snugly. On shore for another good feed. Charleston,
nominally prohibition, is really more wide open than any town I ever
saw. The blind tigers are running with wide open eyes at every
corner and the signs of open gambling everywhere. Commend me
always to a good, gambling bar for good cooking and so we hit a
mahogany palace having an electric roulette wheel for a sign. Right
we were and a delicious steak we had.
January 9th. Comes cloudy, mean and with a
chilling wind that smacks of easting. The swash at Map D.
the open dock had us rolling and gave me good
warning to be up and away. It was early up town to a quick
breakfast and visit to P. O. then on board, clap in two reefs, twist her
round and off up the Ashley River to the tune the old cat died on.
We soon found mouth of Wappoo Creek which was our inland way
and up it we hustled under canvas. All day we kept the sail on her,
winding and twisting through the marsh under a cold, cloudy sky.
We finally were glad to drop over hook in a broad reach just below
Martin’s Pt., perhaps 30 miles from Charleston. We knicked her once
but twisted her into deep water, and jumped her up all standing on a
middle ground just before anchoring for the night, but were soon off
again. The night shut in dark and cloudy with a cutting wind out of
northeast. Glass is again up to 30-2/10 and I suspicion trouble. Am
all snug here and Scotty is all right again, the fire drawing well, so
let her blow.
January 10th to 15th. Am not going to write daily log of this time for
it would be too tedious reading, but it was by no means tedious
living. We became part and parcel of the swamp and marsh. We
were of it, in it, and passed through it like a muskrat or mink, like a
snipe or plover. The tide; its set, speed and turning. The wind; its
strength and direction. These were what counted and on them we
either halted or went on. The ripple of the tide at every bend, the
line of foam bubbles on every reach was a matter of constant
interest and study. Such days are not for either rich or poor, for
those ignorant or wise, but for those only who can cast themselves
bodily into nature and be absorbed by it. I don’t wonder big launch
owners and houseboat owners always send their boats south under
charge of the crew. There could be nothing more dreary than just a-
setting still and being taken through these twisting rivers that lead
for miles and miles through the never ending rice marshes. We saw
some ducks and shore birds, but got shots at very few and missed
those ingloriously. One morning during a thick fog, H. tried Helen
Keller at a cormorant which down here they call a nigger’s goose.
The bird was on the wing, yet once it sounded as if the bullet had
found meat but the bird didn’t drop. Two or three hundred yards
farther on we came across him stone dead with the lead through his
heart. The fog was a nuisance and brought us to anchor at the
mouth of the river leading into St. Helena’s Sound which we wished
to cross on our way to Hunting Is. H. went ashore to try and pick up
a mess of something to eat, but at 5 p.m. yelled out of the fog that
his boat was high and dry and he would like me to send him his
supper on a tray. Foolish little boy. I got him on board again about 7
and mighty glad he was to crawl into the warm cabin and eat a good
hearty supper for he had been nearly bogged, was wet through and
plastered with mud. A bit scared, too, and I don’t believe will try this
country again alone. He got seven shore birds, but cooked and ate
them on shore himself. Greedy cuss. He brought me a present in a
match box and when I opened it, out hopped a chameleon lizard
right into my lap. What with Scotty trying to catch it and I trying not
to, there was a very busy cup of tea. We caught him next day. Have
named him Bill from Alice in Wonderland and added him to ship’s
company.
One morning the fog burned away to as pretty a bit of blue sky and
southerly wind as you ever saw. We were off to cross St. Helena’s
Sound at once. What do you think? In an hour a black, vicious
looking squall made up in the west and struck just as we had tied in
two reefs. A short smother of rain and wind and then cloudy skies
and light airs with strong tide and lumpy seas. That Sound is no
Massachusetts Bay. All about are 1 ft. and 2 ft. spots. I did the best I
could, but one spot that should break didn’t and everything else did
and what with the tide sweeping us about we had a mighty anxious
hour or two with the lead giving us from 9 to 10 feet of water on a
falling tide. Finally got into our creek and of all dreary surroundings
these certainly won out over any we have yet seen. For miles and
miles the dark brown oyster bars stretched endlessly and the creek
with many branches wound about like a maze. It was near night
when we took bottom and learnt from some nigger oyster gatherers
that we were way out of the main creek and bound for the sticks. So
it was snug down for the night. At high tide these oyster bars will be
covered and we will be anchored in a great shallow lake through
which it would be most dangerous to try to navigate for these bars
are simply covered with sharp pointed oyster clusters which differ in
my opinion mighty little from rocks. Hundreds of big plover all over
and about this afternoon. Big as pigeons, tame as pigeons, too.
Went in launch to get some for supper. Missed them sitting, also
flying, and came back without one. I am in that delightful stage
when I pull the trigger three or four times before I shoot. Flinching?
Well, I guess so. H. ain’t no better than I am. We have a standing
bet of five glasses of Coca-Cola to one that the other fellow don’t
kill. So far we stand even and nobody has hit a thing. Dreary, cold,
cloudy, northeast weather. Put launch ashore and repacked stuffing
box, but that didn’t stop leak which now threatens to almost sink her
overnight.
The clouds all rolled away and a morning broke as bright as a new
dollar with a waspish northeaster whisking across the marshes. It
was off and away “pronto.” With single reef we cut things wide
open. Slack sheet, down peak and away we rushed the reaches. In
sheet, up peak and we beat her up the bends and then repeat with
our wake swashing from bank to bank. We kept at it all day and it
was one of the sporting sails of my life. Through narrow creeks,
down broad rivers, across big sounds we drove and hustled. Just a
little slip-up in jibing or tacking and we would have been in the
meadows, but we made none. When we shot out of the creek into
Port Royal Sound we made just three jumps and landed with a
swash in the river on other shore. Old Mascot only wet her
garboards twice in crossing, and the launch never touched water at
all. So it was all day and we anchored for the night with Savannah,
Ga., but a few miles away. The night came pretty as a picture, but
snappy cold and with the highest glass we have yet seen, 30.2.
Think must have change soon. When glass is persistently high down
here I promptly suspicion trouble. By 4 a.m. I felt sure we were in
for another duster for glass began to drop, heavy clouds rolled up
from northeast and wind piped on. I lay awake hoping that I
wouldn’t have to get out anchors until daylight for it was pesky dark
and cold. Suddenly all the breeze let go to a dead calm and then
came out of the northwest smartly but not troublesome and I got in
some handsome winks until seven o’clock when I turned out to an
undeniably pretty day and good breakfast. Then it was away under
sail once more, and passing for a mile or so through a little winding
creek, we entered the Savannah River and by noon were sailing
along the water front of one of the busiest of southern ports.
January 16th. Comes deliciously fair, bright and warm. We have
worked mighty hard for some sunlight like this and a little “dolce fa
niente” served with some prawns creamed on toast won’t hurt either
of us. To town where I was quite the centre of effort when they
learnt at the bank that I had brought a 24 ft. catboat down under
sail in midwinter. I felt just like Dr. Cook. Sorry H. wasn’t along. In
p.m. we took up hook, put launch behind and twisted our way for 10
miles through marsh to Thunderbolt. It looks very attractive here
and if we can find a decent beach to haul out on, we’ll stay a day or