Say Sailor
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Say Sailor

Say Sailor

Say Sailor,

Usually, I’m pretty good with a fid. I can turn out a fair splice in all kinds of rope. So, when I decided to splice eyes in the bridle legs of one of our heavy weather drogues, I didn’t think it would take the better part of 3 afternoons.

The rope you see is 3/4 in. double-braid. (The pokey thing beside the spliced eye is a fid.) The time l it took is one thing, but Salty’s reaction to my first attempt was something else. For someone who doesn’t talk much, he sure can laugh.

“Say sailor, is that a fid in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” is what I thought I heard stopping to catch my breath between world-class bouts of profanity. I realized soon enough that it was Salty guffawing hard enough to fall off his perch.

I had measured incorrectly and there was no amount of pulling, massaging, hammering, or swearing that would allow the crossover to be run home. As it stood it was an abomination not worthy of dragging laundry behind the boat let alone be used in a blow. And Sir Salty Marlinespike-Sailor knew it.

The only chance at resurrection was to deconstruct the thing and try to salvage the bits and pieces. So, afternoon 1: Create an eye splice for Salty’s entertainment; Afternoon 2:
Deconstruct one very bad splice under Salty’s watchful stare; and Afternoon 3: Try, try again.

Luckily, as I’ll need the bridle in the coming months, it all worked out today. I did it outside in the shade of a ginormous cloud because the pressure of Salty looking over my shoulder was too much. Returning to the cabin to show it off produced no response whatsoever. Salty simply rolled rolled over and pretended to be fast asleep.

Tomorrow, provided there is a cloud big enough, I’ll have to do the second of the two legs. This time, As the saying goes, I’ll measure twice and cut once.

Follow my tracks in real-time: