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Introduction to
Prescriptive AI
A Primer for Decision Intelligence
Solutioning with Python
—
Akshay Kulkarni
Adarsha Shivananda
Avinash Manure
 Introduction to
Prescriptive AI
A Primer for Decision
Intelligence Solutioning
with Python

Akshay Kulkarni
Adarsha Shivananda
Avinash Manure
Introduction to Prescriptive AI: A Primer for Decision Intelligence
Solutioning with Python
Akshay Kulkarni Adarsha Shivananda
Bangalore, Karnataka, India Hosanagara, Karnataka, India

Avinash Manure
Bangalore, Karnataka, India

ISBN-13 (pbk): 978-1-4842-9567-0 ISBN-13 (electronic): 978-1-4842-9568-7

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-9568-7

Copyright © 2023 by Akshay Kulkarni, Adarsha Shivananda, Avinash Manure

This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or
part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of
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intention of infringement of the trademark.
The use in this publication of trade names, trademarks, service marks, and similar terms, even if
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they are subject to proprietary rights.
While the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of
publication, neither the authors nor the editors nor the publisher can accept any legal
responsibility for any errors or omissions that may be made. The publisher makes no warranty,
express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein.
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Printed on acid-free paper
 This book is dedicated to my 2-year-old daughter,
Siri, who has been a constant source of inspiration,
joy, and wonder in my life since the day she was born.
Siri, you have shown me the true meaning of
unconditional love, and watching you grow and
learn has been the greatest adventure of my life.
This book is a tribute to the amazing person
you are becoming and a reminder of the infinite
potential that lies within you. Thank you for being
my daughter, my teacher, and my greatest blessing.
—Avinash Manure
Table of Contents
About the Authors��������������������������������������������������������������������������������ix

About the Technical Reviewer�������������������������������������������������������������xi

Acknowledgments�����������������������������������������������������������������������������xiii

Introduction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������xv

Chapter 1: Decision Intelligence Overview�������������������������������������������1

Types of AI�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������2
Decision Intelligence���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������5
Decision Intelligence History��������������������������������������������������������������������������������6
Challenges in AI Adoption�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������7
How Can DI Help Bridge the Gap Between AI and Business?�������������������������������8
The Need for Decision Intelligence�����������������������������������������������������������������������9
The Evolution of Decision-Making����������������������������������������������������������������������11
Challenges����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������13
Applications��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������14
Understanding Where Decision Intelligence Fits Within the AI Life Cycle�����������16
Decision Intelligence Methodologies������������������������������������������������������������������18
Some Potential Pros and Cons of DI��������������������������������������������������������������������22
Examples of How Companies Are Leveraging DI������������������������������������������������24
Conclusion����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������25

v
Table of Contents

Chapter 2: Decision Intelligence Requirements����������������������������������27

Why Do AI Projects Fail?�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������27
DI Requirements Framework������������������������������������������������������������������������������30
Planning��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������31
Approach�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������33
Approval Mechanism/Organization Alignment����������������������������������������������������36
Key Performance Indicators��������������������������������������������������������������������������������37
Define Clear Metrics��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������38
Value�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������40
Return on Investment������������������������������������������������������������������������������������41
Value per Decision�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������42
Consumption of the AI Predictions����������������������������������������������������������������������43
Conclusion����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������46

Chapter 3: Decision Intelligence Methodologies��������������������������������47

Decision-Making�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������47
Types of Decision-Making�����������������������������������������������������������������������������48
Decision-Making Process������������������������������������������������������������������������������51
Decision-Making Methodologies�������������������������������������������������������������������������57
Human-Only Decision-Making�����������������������������������������������������������������������58
Human-Machine Decision-Making����������������������������������������������������������������73
Machine-Only Decision-Making��������������������������������������������������������������������81
Conclusion����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������83

Chapter 4: Interpreting Results from Different Methodologies�����������85

Decision Intelligence Methodology: Mathematical Models���������������������������������85
Linear Models������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������86
Nonlinear Models������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������90

vi
 Table of Contents

Decision Intelligence Methodology: Probabilistic Models�����������������������������������94

Markov Chain�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������95
Decision Intelligence Methodology: AI/ML Models��������������������������������������������103
Conclusion��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������108

Chapter 5: Augmenting Decision Intelligence Results into the

Business Workflow���������������������������������������������������������������������������109
Challenges��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������110
Workflow�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������112
Decision Intelligence Apps��������������������������������������������������������������������������������114
How and Why?���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������115
User-Friendly Interfaces������������������������������������������������������������������������������116
Augmenting AI Predictions to Business Workflow��������������������������������������������118
Connect to Business Tools���������������������������������������������������������������������������120
Map the Data�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������121
Conclusion��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������122

Chapter 6: Actions, Biases, and Human-in-the-­Loop������������������������125

Key Ethical Considerations in AI������������������������������������������������������������������������125
Actions, Biases, and Human-in-the-Loop���������������������������������������������������������127
Cognitive Biases������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������128
Why Is Detecting Bias Important?���������������������������������������������������������������129
Types�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������130
What Happens If Bias Is Ignored?���������������������������������������������������������������������132
Bias Detection���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������133
What Do Bias Tools Do?������������������������������������������������������������������������������������134
Incorporation of Feedback Through Human Intervention����������������������������������136
How to Build HITL Systems?�����������������������������������������������������������������������������139

vii
Table of Contents

Example: Customer Churn���������������������������������������������������������������������������������140

Conclusion��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������141

Chapter 7: Case Studies��������������������������������������������������������������������143

Case Study 1: Telecom Customer Churn Management�������������������������������������143
Case Study 2: Mobile Phone Pricing/Configuration Strategy����������������������������173
Conclusion��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������188

Index�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������189

viii
About the Authors
Akshay Kulkarni is an artificial intelligence
(AI) and machine learning (ML) evangelist
and a thought leader. As a consultant, he has
worked with several Fortune 500 and global
enterprises to drive AI and data science–led
strategic transformations. He is a Google
developer, an author, and a regular speaker
at major AI and data science conferences
(including the O’Reilly Strata Data & AI
Conference and Great International Developer
Summit [GIDS]). He is a visiting faculty member at some of the top
graduate institutes in India. In 2019, he was featured as one of India’s “top
40 under 40” data scientists. In his spare time, Akshay enjoys reading,
writing, coding, and helping aspiring data scientists.

Adarsha Shivananda is a data science and

MLOps leader. He is working on creating
world-­class MLOps capabilities to ensure
continuous value delivery from AI. He aims to
build a pool of exceptional data scientists within
and outside organizations to solve problems
through training programs. He always wants to
stay ahead of the curve. Adarsha has worked
extensively in the pharma, healthcare, CPG, retail,
and marketing domains. He lives in Bangalore
and loves to read and teach data science.

ix
About the Authors

Avinash Manure is a seasoned machine

learning professional with 10+ years of
experience building, deploying, and
maintaining state-of-the-art machine learning
solutions across different industries. He has
six years of experience leading and mentoring
high-­performance teams in developing
ML systems catering to different business
requirements. He is proficient in deploying
complex machine learning and statistical
modeling algorithms/techniques for identifying patterns and extracting
valuable insights for key stakeholders and organizational leadership.

x
About the Technical Reviewer
Nitin Ranjan Sharma is a manager at Novartis.
He leads a team that develops products using
multimodal techniques. As a consultant,
he has developed solutions for Fortune 500
companies and has been involved in solving
complex business problems using machine
learning and deep learning frameworks.
His major focus area and core expertise is
computer vision, including solving challenging
business problems dealing with images and
video data. Before Novartis, he was part of the data science team at Publicis
Sapient, EY, and TekSystems Global Services. He is a regular speaker at
data science community meetups and an open-source contributor. He also
enjoys training and mentoring data science enthusiasts.

xi
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank our families who have always made sure we had
the right environment at home to concentrate on this book and complete
it on time. We would also like to thank the publishing team—Mark Powers
and Celestin Suresh John, and our technical reviewer, Nitin Sharma—who
helped us make sure this book was the best it could be. We would also
like to thank our mentors who made sure we grew professionally and
personally by always supporting us in our dreams and guiding us toward
achieving our goals. Last but not least, we thank our parents, our friends,
and our colleagues who were always there in tough times and motivated us
to chase our dreams.

xiii
Introduction
This book will introduce you to the concept of decision intelligence,
including its history and current and future trends. It will help you
evaluate different decision intelligence techniques and guide you on
how to them through different prescriptive AI methods and incorporate
them into business workflows through different domain-specific use case
implementations.
This book is for data scientists, AI/machine learning engineers, and
deep learning professionals who are working toward building advanced
intelligent AI/ML applications. This book is also for business professionals
and nontechnical stakeholders who want to understand how decision
intelligence can help a business grow.
This book will take you through the journey of decision-making
in companies with key milestones, key statistics, and benefits. It will
provide insights on where decision intelligence fits within the AI life
cycle. This book will provide insights on how to prepare for prescriptive
AI (a key requirement to decision intelligence) with the help of a business
requirement document. It will then deep dive into different decision
intelligence methodologies, their advantages, and their limitations. Next,
you will learn how to perform different simulations and interpret the
results from them. Then you will be guided on how to enable and embed
the decision intelligence process into the business workflow through
prescriptive AI. You will learn about different cognitive biases that humans
make and how that can be lowered/eliminated through the combination
of machine and human intelligence. Finally, you will find different cases
studies by domain through tailored use cases.

xv
Introduction

By the end of the book, you will have a solid understanding of

decision intelligence and prescriptive AI tools and techniques and how
to incorporate them within the business workflow for greater productivity
and profit to the business.
The source code for this book is available on GitHub (github.com/
apress/introduction-prescriptive-ai).

xvi
CHAPTER 1

Decision Intelligence
Overview
Prescriptive AI is a type of artificial intelligence that is designed to provide
recommendations, solutions, or actions to optimize or improve a specific
process or outcome. It is unlike descriptive AI, which describes “what”
has happened in the past/present; inferential/diagnostic AI, which
helps us understand “why” something has happened; and predictive AI,
which helps predict what might happen in the future. Once we have the
predictions, prescriptive AI focuses on what actions should be taken to
achieve a particular goal or outcome.
Prescriptive AI can be used in a variety of applications, such as in
healthcare to help doctors diagnose diseases and prescribe treatments, in
finance to make investment decisions, and in manufacturing to optimize
production processes. It typically uses machine learning algorithms
and other advanced technologies to analyze large datasets and generate
recommendations based on the data.
Overall, the goal of prescriptive AI is to help humans make better
decisions by providing them with accurate and actionable insights based
on data-driven analysis.

© Akshay Kulkarni, Adarsha Shivananda, Avinash Manure 2023 1

A. Kulkarni et al., Introduction to Prescriptive AI,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4842-9568-7_1
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
in a little 26 foot open launch with canopy top. Heaven I hope will
help the outfit or wreck them on some friendly shore, for the man
had neither charts nor directions and didn’t even know the meaning
or use of buoys. We had told him of the Rudder’s description of
route and he was then waiting to receive copies. The little woman
was losing courage and well she might, for in the southeaster a few
days ago they had been soaked through, bedding and all, and the
night of the northwest squall they had spent shivering while tied to a
can buoy in Delaware River not knowing where they were or what to
do. How comfortable our cosy little cabin did seem in comparison.
Seeing them again reminded me of a little experience in the Raritan
canal. We tried to pass a big barge going our way and when nearly
by we took bottom and ran up good and plenty. The barge-man
yelled out to “come off as ye come on” and left us. To budge the
good ship I had to run a line ashore and heave her down with throat
halliards. You bet it made my sore eye better when on passing the
next bend I found the barge stuck hard and fast on a rock with no
prospect of getting off this year. “Come off as ye come on” says I,
and away we went. To hark back to Delaware City we put in the
afternoon measuring off rigging for I don’t trust this and we’ll get
new at Baltimore. Then we hauled out head and foot of mainsail and
then we were both about all in for we have been working hard for a
good many days and the change of weather did us both up brown. I
took Scotty for a little walk but when she heard a dinner bell, she
thought of the engine in the Raritan canal and bolted. Gee! how she
flew. The Mascot not being near enough, she jumped into nearest
open boat and crawled away up under forward deck from where I
had to pull her by the tail. Night came and villainous urchins
pounded with sticks on our smoke pipe.
November 12th. Comes fair and warm. Both feeling fine and my
eyes all mended up. Off by nine into the country now beginning to
look a little more southern. More leaves on the trees and the trunks
festooned with vines. The canal with its little lakes and then again its
narrow wooded cuts most beautiful. The warm sunlight flooded all
and the distances were hazy blue and brown. It was a day of days.
The bluebird perched on my finger and let me stroke its feathers,
and Scotty curled up in my lap just the nicest, softest bunch of fur.
Broiled steak and creamed potatoes for dinner. If I didn’t continually
prove myself a fool I would think myself a philosopher—for I seem
to come nearer to complete happiness more often than other folks. I
have worked hard for it, too, in a way, and I believe that I have
made such friends with bluebird that neither poverty, want or woe
can drive him far away for long.
The beautiful delightful fourteen miles was mighty soon over and
about 1:30 we locked out into the creek which leads to Elk River and
the headwaters of old Chesapeake Bay. We ran aground promptly,
but got off with help of launch and sail. Then we towed a bit and
then with very light airs but fair tide, we beat down the beautiful
reaches and were mighty glad to lose the sound of the launch’s
puffing.
Oh! it sure was a dandy sail and when the sun set behind the
highlands and the light clouds all turned a gorgeous crimson we
slipped quietly into a little branch and anchored in the deep shadow
of the shore and watched a flock of geese wing to the southard. This
was what we came for and it was way up to expectations.
November 13th. Last night we turned in to the vibrant sound of
honking geese in flight and this morning we turned out to the same
tune. Not a breath of air and the bay like a mirror with shores veiled
in bluish mist. Wonderful beyond anything. Put the launch astern
and were soon on our way. So straight does she go when we fix
launch just right that we both sat down in cabin to breakfast and let
her go it alone. Ducks, ducks by the thousand, geese by the
hundreds and hundreds. We chased big, long-necked Canada geese
in flocks as if they were puddle ducks. I never expected to see such
a sight. They all knew motor boat mightly well, however, and Helen
Keller, the 22 rifle with Maxim silencer, whispered in vain, but mighty
close by. It is a sporting proposition to get duck or goose meat with
a 22 cal. at 150 or 200 yards with your boat going 4 knots and
distance guessed at. No wind came until afternoon and we just
puffed along while the crew cleaned ship after the dirty canal travel
and kept busy in ordinary ship’s duties. Barometer slowly working
down, also provisions. Better make Baltimore to-night although it
hurts my pride not to hoist sail. Things look mighty different now
from what they did with a bandage on one eye and a blue glass over
the other. Age, however, must be creeping on for without glasses I
can’t make out anything on a chart.
We jogged along until off entrance to Baltimore harbor where a
smashing S. W. breeze struck in and we up sail and squared away
for anchor. Baltimore being noted for its nasty harbor water, we ran
up to South Baltimore in Curtis Bay, and as we were beating in got
properly cussed by ferry boat captain for not having our lights lit.
Said he would report us and some other things too. Hope he don’t
for I was caught pretty lame. Scotty scared of motor today and fled
behind stove where she stayed all day. Clouding up from southard
and am glad to be in good harbor.
November 14th. This day was a hustle like all the previous ones. I
went to town and bought provisions and new rigging, but found
there was no way of ever getting them to Curtis Bay which I also
found was reputed the most notoriously disreputable suburb of
Baltimore. Didn’t get back to boat until 3 p.m. when H. met me all
dolled up to go to his Uncle Alfred’s to supper. I started the launch,
got gallied with the tiller lines and ran her bang into the wharf. No
damage and soon on board where I had supper and wrote letters
and then fell sound asleep so that H. returning, had to hire a launch
to bring him on board.
November 15th. Comes with drifting cloud and cold, raw wind from
the west where snow is reported in the mountains. Got under way at
once, and beat up harbor in smashing breeze to anchorage off
Maryland Motor Boat Club. A very Christian place. While I was
cooking breakfast, H. went ashore for our supplies and without life
preservers, fire extinguisher or whistle in launch fell right into hands
of revenue officer who said he must report him. What with being
caught without side lights the other night, and without launch fixings
today, things are beginning to be interesting. We rove, spliced and
whipped new gang of rigging this morning and she looks more
shipshape. Must now go ashore for last things and there is the
revenue cutter waiting at wharf. Had launch full of preservers and
bric-a-brac, no trouble. On board for nice quiet evening at knitting.
November 16th. Comes sharply cold with breeze N. W. Off by 7:15
and after breakfast and clearing up put spinnaker to her in
freshening breeze and away we went down Chesapeake to the tune
of “forward and back with ladies change.” The breeze hauling by
west made me try spinnaker as balloon jib but wind was too puffy
and nearly lost my boom so had to take it in. Saw a herd of black
and white cows ahead. No law on stray cows at sea so I got one
with one barrel and H. took another with other barrel and their
carcasses soon aboard. On past Annapolis where the Naval School
buildings looked grandly beautiful. Can’t stop today but see you on
our way back. Busy as bees all morning. Basket of oysters to be
cleaned and now and then one opened. So good, so good. Then I
opened a dozen or so and H. made a pie which is baking as I write,
and the sun is going down gloriously clear, and up under the shore
with leg-o-mutton sails and long raking spars the oyster sloops are
racing home for the night. How short the day. Half-past four and we
are getting lanterns ready. Let the wind only hold at this, and I will
take her a long way from here before the sun peeks at me again. I
believe it is right to drive south steadily and loaf along on the up
route because it is too cold and young ice will be along soon. A year
ago Baltimore was buried in snow and had a zero temperature. Not
any for mine. The wind dropped with the sun and after hour of
loafing along in the light of a good moon, we dropped anchor and
turned in at 11 p.m.
November 17th. Comes without a cloud or a breath of wind. Turned
over and snoozed it out until 7. Then up and doing. I had remains of
oyster pie for my breakfast and H. stuffed griddles. A regular
Chesapeake morning. The Bay a mirror and dotted with sail of all
kinds. We got away with launch astern but by 10:30 a cold whiffle
came down from north and it was soon eight hands around, and
away to a smashing breeze with white caps dancing alongside. We
are tearing at it as I write and yet it seems impossible down here in
the cozy little cabin with good fire going, sunlight pouring through
the open hatch and kitty, who has just eaten and then thrown up the
leg of a sea fowl, asleep in my lap. All the comforts of home in 24′
7″. Don’t it beat all? And just as I finished writing the above sizzle it
came butt-ends on and then some. We were over-blown in no time
so it was bring her to it and reef in a vicious chop of a sea. Put in
the best reef yet and in ship-shape style. H. is all right. Papa felt so
good he tied down the leach earing himself. Away again in search of
palm trees for this norther was cutting cold. It blew on steadily and
soon every sail on the bay but ourselves had run to cover in some
little hole in the wall. We drew out into the broad mouth of the
Potomac and such a hubble-bubble as there was and the breeze
pricking on all the time. The launch still without cover began to lap
up the water and was soon shooting from side to side. I dropped my
peak to ease things but couldn’t do much. Sea tumbling every which
way and more to come. In the holes we could see whiff-on-pooffs
laughing. I was below eating dinner when H. yelled “she’s gone.”
Sure thing. The launch had stripped the big quarter cleat off the
deck and was headed to sea far astern. Thank goodness she wasn’t
sunk. Then it was down board up peak and haul sheets. Oh! a fine,
noble little ship she is. She looked up into that crooked water like a
major. Into Henry’s bunk went my bean dinner, coffee, etc., etc.
Round she came and everything else went into mine. Just before
reaching the launch an old, whopping sea spilled lanterns, cans,
pans, coal and me into the scuppers, and before I could get my
wheel again, we all but hit the launch beam on. Just got by but
couldn’t catch her. Made a sporting pickup on next try, but saw at
once that she would soon roll over if not bailed out. Dropped peak,
laid to and H. jumped aboard and bailed out like a sailor. Then away
again and found that with a very long painter she did pretty well.
Was trying to get round next point without tacking, but the sea was
almost breaking and my lead giving me only 2½ fath. In a cast or
two I got only 1½ fath. and the water straight up and down. The
sooner the quicker and we made a fancy North river jibe and hauled
off shore. Soon found easier going and tacking her smartly just
inside Smith’s Point Light, we squared away for Great Wicomico
River which we entered for a delightfully quiet harbor at 6 p.m. after
a truly sporting day. In half an hour we sat down to roast chicken,
baked potatoes and brown gravy. Henry getting so used to these
little merry-go-rounds that he don’t turn a hair now while a few
weeks ago they made his teeth chatter. He says he didn’t know
yachting was anything like this and I tell him it “ain’t.” This is boating
and to get little boats over big distances you must drive them. There
was some whipping to canvas with peak dropped today and a nasty
batten poked thro’ the sail and before it tore loose and went to
leeward it ripped a foot or more of canvas. Also tore out lazy jack
boom block, loosened poop deck irons and split one of the boards.
H. thinks we better lay up and repair while there is something left to
repair, but they are all non-essentials while this norther is very much
an essential towards making southing, so on we go with halliards
flying and no down haul. Like Jorrocks, I feel like saying “Yachting is
the sport of kings, the essence of war with all the glory and only
twenty-five per cent of the danger.”

November 18th. Came as bright, crisp and snappy as you please.

Under way by 8:45 still clinging to our single reef, although
barometer was up after a 2 point drop yesterday for that breeze.
With wide sheet we slipped along the shore heading about due
south. Again the sails and the fleets of oyster boats. The shore not
misty blue but clear cut in the smart northerly air, and the water a
deep, wholesome blue. And so on with the breeze always pricking on
and driving us faster, but without the concentrated venom of the day
before and our single reef just handsome canvas. Past the mouth of
the Rappahannock where the seas picked up and with only 2 fath. of
water, we were almost out of sight of land. Old squaw stew for
dinner, and Henry had to run from the cabin. First touch of mutiny
on board. He allowed he would desert at Norfolk or right then and
there if I gave him any more sea fowl to eat. Foolish boy, he needs
starving. Scotty and I finished the stew. Away past Mobjack Bay; the
York River, and as night fell we beat up into the little hole called
Back Bay and dropped anchor at 5:45 having done 48 knots in the 9
hours run or 54 land miles. With Norfolk only 18 miles away, I feel as
if we had about knocked this stretch to pieces. But what a chance I
had at it.
November 19th. Comes calm and as pretty as a picture. Found us
anchored in a snug little harbor and surrounded by busy oystermen.
Fried oysters for breakfast, and we took our time, so that it was 11
o’clock before we tripped our hook and started for Norfolk only 18
miles away. There’s where we just missed it for the wind hauled E.
S. E. and gave it to us right in the eye with a mean, short, little
hubble-bubble that old Mascot found it particularly hard to negotiate.
A miserable little sloop-rigged dugout manned by three niggers gave
me the beating of my life. She was about 30 ft. long and slid
through that chop as if greased. I still held to my reef and with
launch in tow made slow but mighty comfortable going. Worked the
shore down to Old Point Comfort but taking a strong ebb tide there
we had to get whole sail on her and seriously work our passage up
Hampton Roads where “Lay the Cumberland Sloop of war.” The wind
failed as the sun went down and night found us seeking some little
quiet corner in the big, busy harbor of Norfolk which was crowded
with barges and schooners waiting cargoes. I counted seven five-
masters and one six-master. Henry towed awhile, but we got
aground and then a little night air springing up we slowly worked her
up past the wharves to a quiet little berth among some other small
craft. We are 35 days from Potomska and count up just 21 sailing
days. We must stop here and fix up for a day or two sure.
November 20th to November 26th. At anchor Norfolk. Most of the
time put in while running back and forth to our meals ashore. We
did finally complete the cover to the launch and get a new quarter
cleat bolted down. We were a trifle fine in spots, and I made H.
spend a day by himself which did him good. We passed a day
inspecting terminus of Virginia R. R. and one afternoon we actually
loafed an hour or two on board. We met two young fellows who
were bound to New Orleans in a 26 ft. launch and writing up a story
of their trip for publication in the Motor World. Their boat was the
most complete mess I ever saw. Their photo outfit took up most all
available space, and what was left held a typewriter in a big box.
Four gallons of water in two little stone jugs was all the wet goods
carried. When they arrived they brought the remains of a canopy top
which had blown off one day in the Bay. They seemed happy
enough, however, and spent an evening on board and took a picture
of “Scotty.” The Mascot with all the room pleased them much.

November 26th. I turned out at 5, but that crew of

Map C.
mine has no ambition, and it took half an hour to
get him out of his blankets. The morning was bitter cold and it was
mufflers and mitties once more. We breakfasted and after filling
water tanks at wharf we tucked the launch under stern and were
away up the south branch of Elizabeth River. Past the docks, ferry
boats, tugs, barges and stuff. Then the big navy yard and through
railroad bridges and at last the river and the pines. How good it all
looked. We were mighty tired of that old harbor with its shrieking
whistles and uneasy waters. The river wound and twisted along until
it fetched us up near noon at the entrance and first and only lock of
the Chesapeake and Albemarle Canal. Here we were mulct $7.50 for
getting dropped about 2 ft., but somehow that little drop seemed to
separate us entirely from the north and launch us into Dixie waters.
The sun was out bright and warm. The air a misty blue from smoke
drifting over from big fires in Dismal Swamp. The canal stretched
straight away a bright blue line framed in the greens and browns of
the bank. Oh! it was all so beautiful, so calmly peaceful and still. We
tied to a grape vine and muzzled all four feet right into a great
oyster stew and then away on our long road of color. The swamp
lonesome, dreary, fascinating, stretched on either side as far as we
could see. Dore might have come here to sketch some of his great,
gaunt, tree trunks. What can people be made of to talk of these
canals as tiresome bits of the southern journey, to be endured and
gotten over as quickly as possible. This half day paid for the effort
gone before. And as the day wore on it grew always wilder, more
beautiful. The dark green of holly, the blue green of the great, long
leaved pine, and the browns and yellows of leaf and grasses growing
full to the water’s edge. It was a sacrilege to break such stillness
with a motor, but we committed it. Three big, bald headed eagles
and a few hawks were the only live things we saw. The afternoon
wore on. All the wind died and the shadows crept across the stream,
while the sun, a big red fire ball dropped behind the pines and it was
night quick, quick. The little chain rattled and we were soon
swinging quietly at anchor. I had to give Scotty a talking to. No
sooner was anchor down than she wanted to go ashore and see the
wild cats, but I took her on my knee and said “Non, mon pauvre
petit mimi, tu ne peut pas aller chez les chats sauvages. Sois sage et
reste tranquille avec nous.” This calmed her at once. I was a bit
scared because she had a fit yesterday and honestly I never saw a
little cabin so full of one cat before. If she has another, we leave the
ship even here in Dismal Swamp. So with cheese fondue and lots of
toast for supper, thus ends a mighty fine day and we turned in to the
sound of the hoot of an old owl. We turned out again mighty quick,
however, to the hail of “What in hell is that?”, to find a river steamer
close aboard. No sooner was he safely past than down stream came
a tug and the whoppingest, biggest barge. As they swung round the
bend the barge just missed us, and the captain from seemingly the
top of a mountain shouted “Youse all better move away or some of
us all will be running over youse.” We moved all right and promptly.

November 27th. Warm cabin all night. Snug and comfy. I turned out
5:30 and found everything white with frost. Kicked H. out after much
labor. Fear me he will never have any ambition. His circulation is like
that of the Boston Common. Heavy mist over all. The sun up a silver
ball and everything bright and sparkling like a Christmas Tree. Fine
breakfast with a new feature called Bologna a la Mascot. Here it is.
Beat eggs and add little English mustard. Dip thin slices of Bologna
and roll in cracker crumbs. Fry in drip fat. Serve on toast with sauce
made by adding cream to beaten egg. Try it. I invented it when
tending fire at 2 a.m. From companionway we can watch a great
bald head eagle on top of an old dead tree. He is a buster and his
white head glistens in the sun. Off by nine with the night mists rising
from the marshes and the dark pine coming into sight. Past Pungo
Ferry, a good name for a lonely spot. Then on into North Landing
River. The sun soon brightly warm and we were comfortable in shirt-
sleeves. A mighty sudden and pleasant change from early morning.
The whole scene was so charmingly beautiful that it was hard to
leave deck and go to cooking. Creamed oysters on toast paid,
however, for the trouble.

While H. was eating lunch, we came out into the upper reaches of
Currituck Sound. Through the glasses I made out some queer
looking white spots on the perfectly calm water and by gum! they
turned out to be a flock of more than one hundred swan. America’s
biggest game bird and the first we had ever seen. Sort of made my
insides creep just as it does to see a noted snow mountain for the
first time. We began to see ducks now, thousands of them, but all
pretty shy. Henry bagged a blue-nosed pig at the fourth shot with
Helen. No law on pigs. We triced him to the rigging and crew
returned to ordinary ship’s duties. Across head of Currituck and into
a little canal cut right through the piney woods. Afternoon was
getting on. The reflections of the pines reached from either bank
and down the middle lay a pathway of silver for our little boat. I
hope my two photos may bring the scene back to mind. I could think
only of that picture “The Isle of the Blessed” with its cypress trees.
So on and on until night threatened and we slowly felt our way into
a little creek near mouth of North River, and while H. was busy with
the launch, I tackled the dinner of roast pork, baked white and
sweet potatoes and applesauce. Thus ends another perfect cruising
day. Barometer tended up and we turned in with cloudy sky and
variable northerly airs. Didn’t like the looks much and if bound round
Cape Cod would have stayed at Vineyard Haven.
November 28th. Thanksgiving. Started prompt on time with smartish
breeze true N. E. Turned out at 3:30 and gave her more chain and
saw all right. Barometer on the roller coaster. By 5 things were doing
and by 6 it was blowing 60 miles and snowing hard. We were
perfectly protected up our little creek and luckily swung in enough
water to float us although the bank was precious close. H. a bit
nervous about drifting ashore at first, but soon got accustomed to
the sing of things. He thinks yachting with father is great, but
doesn’t care for the snow. Stove drew so hard it nearly took Scotty
right through the grate and we had to wrap the Gloucester head
with canvas to save the coal. Flapjacks for breakfast and coffee
strong enough to carry out the big anchor. Everything covered with
snow. The trunks of the pines at edge of forest all snow-white like
birches. H. thinks the warm cabin pretty good, but when I suggested
it was a fair wind and we might as well tie her down and get along,
he said he would take his chance in the launch and go live with the
Piney Woods people first. Afraid he has no heart for the game. Got
out my fiddle and H. his flute, and we had it back and forth to the
tune of “Eight Hands Around and Ladies Change.”
Lunched lightly in preparation of Thanksgiving feast to come.
Barometer turned up, thermometer turned down and wind hauled by
west with breaking cloud and a fearful scream of wind and flurry of
snow. I knew this storm would come, and I have been driving south
hard in consequence. Here it matters little for the cold doesn’t last
many days in succession and we are all ready for it. I am anxious
about our two boy friends in the little launch, for it was a tricky day
yesterday and might well have caught any man with a lee shore
aboard this morning. It was touch and go whether I crept in here or
anchored in the open.
Made a mince pie. It looked all right. Put on macaroni to boil and
then muffled all up in oilers and mitties and went up the little creek
in the launch for a breath of air and to get a picture of the piney
woods with tree trunks white with snow. Found a little gill net across
the stream and in it a hell-diver all but strangled. Cut him loose and
let him go. When we got back to Mascot we found a nice pickerel in
the bottom of the boat. Must have jumped in upstream. Macaroni all
but boiled out. Just saved it. Fixed it up with cracker crumbs and
cheese. Roasted a fine, big chicken. Baked sweet and white
potatoes. Had delicious raw oysters in cocktail sauce and while night
shut in still, cold and clear, we muzzled into it all and didn’t forget
absent friends, although I did forget a pint of “champagne wasser”
which I had meant to get at Norfolk. Everything iced down on deck
as we turned in. Wouldn’t be much surprised to find ourselves
pinched by the morning. Hopes not.
Friday, November 29th. Comes clear as a bell and mighty cold.
Henry showed mighty little enthusiasm about bailing launch. Boat
pretty well iced up, and 100 yds. up creek was my good old enemy,
new ice. Away by nine with dead calm and launch tucked astern.
The sun got up and such a change. Off mitties and mufflers, coats
and even jackets. With eyes shut you might picture yourself on a
hillside back of Mentone. Out of the North River and out into
Albemarle Sound so dazzling bright in that southern sun. Swans,
swans, lots of them, and to see them made my stomach crinkly
again. Very few ducks, and Helen Keller could add nothing to the
larder. Don’t need anything. Never saw so many things to eat on a
little boat before. For lunch there was cold roast chicken and pork,
oyster cocktails, applesauce flicked up with raisins, mince pie and
cranberry sauce. Can you beat it? Something must be done or we
won’t have any hardships to boast of. They may come. There’s lots
of time. I looked at Henry’s log yesterday and found the following:
“Heavy north east gale with driving snow and awful cold. Father
crazy and playing the fiddle.” Now what do you make of that after all
I’ve done for him? Across Albemarle Sound with power helped out
by sail and light westerly airs. Just before reaching the water to
westward of Roanoke Is. we spied a familiar-looking little launch
astern and it turned out to be our old friends, husband and wife, still
pegging away on the hunt to Florida. Then the breeze drew right out
south and chopped up water so that we had to put launch in tow.
While beating slowly along we sighted another little launch and were
soon passed by Querida II and two boy friends from Norfolk. All this
meeting and passing of boats bound on same quest adds much to
the interest. Not such good fun today to see the little wretches work
up to harbor 6 miles away right in the wind’s eye and leave us slip-
slopping about. Sun was nearly set when wind and sea dropped and
we again started launch and headed for the harbor, too. This harbor,
Roanoke Marshes, is a little creek in back of Roanoke Light and the
creek makes into the marshes. Night fell quickly and we were soon
cruising along a low, black shore line without sign of light to guide
us. No more use than nothing, so after running into numerous fish
traps we over yank and called it enough. Our gasoline is running
mighty low for we have had no wind since leaving Norfolk. More
than 100 miles from here to Beaufort and few if any places to get
any. Gosh! but it is an awful long ways to anywhere in these parts.
The water is as muddy as pea soup, and looks like it. When the lead
gives you 12 ft. you know you are in the channel.

November 30th. Last night came cold, and that boy Henry shut the
cabin up tight and I woke about midnight gasping. Morning came
and found us 200 yds. from mouth of creek, but it was a blind little
hole even by daylight. Everywhere around us were fish traps. A
forest of poles and nets. Don’t see how we missed getting bungled
up. H. ran into the creek in search of gasoline and kerosene, but
returned with word that everybody was shorter than we were and
envied us our sail power. Old Mascot seems like a great unwieldy
ship in these thin waters and light airs. Off by 9 and picked our way
among the fish traps to Stumpy Point Bay about 10 miles where it
was reported there was gasoline. We are at anchor there now as I
write. We touched the high spots all right coming in, but why not
with 3 ft. of water. The beautiful warm sun is flooding the cabin and
did it not happen each day we couldn’t believe that we would shiver
with cold by 6 p.m. Stumpy Point Village looks interesting and
consists of a few shanties lining the desolate shore of a little bay
about a mile wide. What for the village? I don’t know. We will find
out and I think loaf out the day after eating boiled striped bass fresh
from a net this morning. Anchor hardly over in 4 ft. of water when
we were boarded by W. A. Best, typical southerner of the coast. He
wanted magazines and we were sorry to find ourselves without a
one. Pitiful, this cry for reading. We are 60 miles from nearest
railroad. Hospitable no name for it. Wouldn’t we go ashore and stay
at his house? He would see that everything that Stumpy Point had
was ours and the more he talked, the greater the attractions
seemed. Ducks and geese everywhere. Deer and bear in the woods.
We must go after grey squirrels in the afternoon with him. This we
did and never saw a squirrel, but we did see virgin forest of cypress,
gum and maple, a magnificent sight soon to be seen hereaway no
more. Best took us to his house, a little shanty like the rest of those
in Stumpy Point. He showed us into the parlor and there on the floor,
with an old quilt under her, lay his wife. She never moved as we
entered and at first I thought she was a deader. Best explained
casually that she had a fever and cold and headache and had been
ailing for several days. Three little boys were playing in the room
and an air-tight stove was making merry. For true misery you
couldn’t beat it much. All Stumpy Point knows we are here and this
evening it was hard to get away from the grocery store where the
village had collected to see and hear us. We were most cordially
invited to attend divine services to-morrow, and I think we will do it.
The whole little village depends upon about 3 months’ shad fishing
in the spring and for the rest of the year just exists. Mail comes and
goes twice a week by steamer when the steamer comes. The water
in the sound, for we are now in Pamlico, goes in and out according
to the direction of wind and just now it seems to be going out, for
to-night we are aground and we may be here several days to come.
We like Stumpy Point and are quite happy, but how to refuse the
hospitality offered and not offend, that’s the difficulty. The dish of
cold, fat pork and potatoes that we had to sit down to at Best’s this
afternoon makes me shudder now. Night comes with glass jumping
to 30.4 and an ugly looking mist hanging to the southward.
Symptoms like those before the gale of a few days since. Hopes not.

December 1st. Comes cloudy light airs N. E. Put in the morning at

letter writing and entertaining callers. The good people come on
board and just set and set. After lunch we poseyed all up and went
on shore to Sunday school. Mrs. Best had a 6 months’ baby last
night and was not receiving to-day. I guess the Sunday school was a
Baptist affair. It was all right anyway, and the whole village turned
out for it. The community is mighty interesting. No niggers allowed,
no rum drunk and not a cuss word heard. The men and boys a fine,
clean looking set, but the women tired and worn. No sooner back to
the boat when more visitors. A man with 200 lb. wife with one eye
and two children. Then another man. The 200 lbs. came below and
“nussed” the baby while I cooked supper and they all stayed while
we ate it, watching our every move. They are bound not to let us go,
and I fear will put a seine round us if we don’t get away to-morrow.
Scotty stole carcass of duck right off the table while we were at
supper. Would have made a get-a-way had I not caught her by the
tail. Never a smile from a single visitor. The strain is too awful. We
must flee and hope to do it before we make some dreadful social
bull, for pride and sensitiveness are what these people live on
besides ducks.
December 2nd. Comes kind of sort of chill southerly, squally looking
sky and very thin airs with slowly falling glass. H. went on shore
before breakfast and returned with gasoline and two live roosters.
What do you think of that? I bought some oysters and last evening
H. raked some with crab net from the boat so we feel again
provisioned. If we stay another night H. must accept invitation to do
society so it is up yank and away by 9.
Launch pulled us a mile or two when light airs S. W. chopped up the
sea and we made sail. Wind dead ahead and it was mighty slow
footing in the short swash. Awful good to be under sail once more
and we had a harbor not far away. Out to Long Shoal Light and then
with eased sheets and freshening breeze a good hour’s run to the
mouth of Pain’s Bay which we entered and put hook down in 6 ft.
water. We sailed about 16 miles but are only 8 miles nearer the palm
trees. Chickens looked so miserable tied by the legs that we set
them going tied by one leg to each other and as I write they are
peacefully going to roost with many a contented cluck. Hope we
don’t get fond of them and have to add them to the ship’s company.
Half an hour after dropping anchor a heavy fog settled down, night
shut in and it was pitch dark. Queer country and where strangers
must keep weather eyes open. Gunners returning to Stumpy Point
from Hatteras told us that the gale of Thanksgiving day blew all the
water out of the sound and left a big 60 ft. motor yacht high and dry
off the beach. Then when wind hauled N. W. all the water blew back
with such a rush that she was afloat in 40 minutes but lost her nice
power launch, anchor and 15 fath. chain, but was able to get shelter
under power herself.
December 3rd. Begins about 3 a.m. with the darndest racket. Dead
calm, pitch dark and all around us thousands of geese and duck.
Might as well try to sleep in a hen coop. Honk, honk, quack, quack,
a babel of sound. Along about 5 o’clock and just as we were
beginning to hope that a glimmer of light would give us a shot, two
men on a cruising launch turned out with a lantern and the roar of
wings on water was as loud as a train of cars. Cuss those New York
fools anyway. Day came with a shift of wind into N. E. and a wild,
windy look to the sky. With a reef tucked in I could cover lots of
miles southward, but there is again the question, “What will the
water do?” Suppose we turn her loose down wind and it pricks on
sharply. Will we find water all run out of the harbors and we left to
wallow it out 2 or 3 miles off shore? It is certainly queer guessing.
This morning we found there was much about live chickens to make
them undesirable sea companions. Don’t think we are in danger of
keeping them long. Barometer didn’t act like storm and by 11 o’clock
I couldn’t stand it any longer, so put a single reef in and away we
scuttled. It was mighty good sailing and I guessed the weather right
for by 1 o’clock we were under full sail and a summer’s sun. Could
have been a long ways if had got away early, but the chance was
then too big. Hauled to westward and over hook to a nice anchorage
in Wyesocking Bay at 3:15 p.m. Earlier in the day than we have
stopped her since leaving home. Henry into the launch and up creek
to see if he can’t nab some stray cattle. Chickens killed and picked
and all the pleasures of a farming life are ours. While I write at 4
p.m., the sun is flooding down companionway so warm, so warm.
The first fly is buzzing, too. H. returned with nix and reported
mosquitos on shore. Things are progressing.
December 4th. Turned out at 5 to find all quiet, still and dark. So
quiet that from the quarter I could hear the ticking of our little clock.
So calm that each star was mirrored on the water. Away under
power by 7. Out into a golden sunrise, the pride and beauty of the
day. Here was a morning for sun worshippers to kneel. Sea and sky
melted into one great glory in the east and behind us faded into soft
pearly mists in which horizons were lost, and we seemed to be
floating in air. So flat the bosom of the sea that the meanest
stepmother in the land would have been proud to call it hers. The
duck feathers floated on the surface as lightly as—well, I can’t think
just how lightly now, but gosh-dinged lightly. We turned her on a 20
mile leg S. W. at 8 and sailed all morning on this wonderful sea. Why
can’t somebody come here and tell people of the beauties to be
found? We chased duck all about but failed to get meat, although we
lost lots of time which is precious today.
Scotty was on sick list yesterday and had sort of kind of fits so fast
one after the other that she lost count. Pretty near threw her little
heart up. Looked kind of meechin this morning so gave her a dose of
sweet oil. This afternoon she seems better and has eaten a chicken
and held onto it. As I write this we are entering Neuse River at lower
end of Pamlico 3:45 p.m. We had gone about 35 knots, all under
power, since 7 this morning. Without it we couldn’t have moved a
mile. Intend running on some 14 miles farther to mouth of creek
which leads to canal cutting through to Beaufort. The motor has just
given 3 spasmodic gasps and died. Oh, dear! Found gasoline all
gone and now, with new, she is off again merrily. She pushes us in
calm water 4½ knots an hour and gives us 6 knots to 1 gal. gas.
Pretty good work we think.
Night shut down with easterly air so cold I was all of a shiver, the
change is so great from heat of the day. Quickly the wind changed
warm to the south and the air was like ours in August. We picked up
our lights all right, and poked her quietly into the black woods where
should have been a river, and sure enough, there was. The accuracy
of these charts is a continual surprise. By 7:30 we were at quiet
anchorage stuffing ourselves with fried oysters.
December 5th. Comes cloudy. A sort of dog-day affair. Pleasant to
our eyes after the glare, and our little river framed in the green of
long-leaf pine looks very attractive. Along we go, getting glimpses of
dark swamps, up creeks, in deep, solemn shadow. Then came the
cut through the neck of land to a river at headwaters of Beaufort
Harbor. Along the banks were palms, real palms. Not great big
snoosing busters with cocoanuts, but little wee-wees, but palms all
the same. From the boat I shot a plover and we had the deuce of a
time landing and getting him. Scotty promptly grabbed him and with
head and tail up, marched off below to eat him. Not much, Scotty.
Then out of the cut into broad reaches where oyster bars poked up
their heads from a few inches of water. A fog shut down hiding all
the ranges and we were soon all to the bad. Out of the mist ahead
we made out a little launch aground and it turned out to be our
friends, husband and wife, still plugging at it. Close to them was a
big motor boat from Conn., also high and dry. They had both tried to
go wrong side of a red buoy. We waved and motored on, but in less
than a quarter mile hit bottom ourselves, and with meek and lowly
spirits, took up our burden and went below to dinner. Tide being well
out, it was only two hours before we were afloat again. The launch
balked a little for almost the first time since leaving home, and while
H. was doctoring it along came a fellow to offer a tow down to
Beaufort. Told him we could get along alone but gave him a segar
and soon had him so chummy that he hitched alongside and pulled
us down to a good anchorage off Beaufort wharves for nothing.
Nothing like a little practice in insurance business and a cup of coffee
and segar at right moment.
Beaufort is great. Like the Old Howard, something doing along its
water front from daylight till dark and long after. Lots of fishing
vessels all anchored in a line only 50 yds. from the little wharves.
Thousands of motor boats and only one muffler. The wharves and
fish houses extend a mile and there is lots of color, and across it all
blows the damp sea wind with its smell of the old beach. Mighty
good to my nose after weeks of inland smells. I keep recollecting
little things about Stumpy Point such as they couldn’t keep hogs
“Cause the bars ketched em all up” and one man who trapped alive
a big bald head eagle complained that he got no returns because
“the human sociation done gone ketched him up and let him go.” He
was a good eagle and the man couldn’t understand the why of it.
December 6th. Comes with threatening skies and drifting fog,
southerly. The fishermen with big crews got away, only to anchor
under the hook of the land just outside. As I write, at noon, they are
streaming in again and picking up their anchorages like horses
running into their stalls. The air is damp, warm and depressing. H.
and I could hardly crawl about on shore and were mighty glad to get
aboard again.
We visited an oyster-opening plant. Mighty interesting and on the
whole, cleanly. Hundreds of men, women and little children at work
opening 1500 bu. a day. The little white children looked peaked
enough and the dirt, steam and smell of the opening shed were kind
of fierce. In the midst of the mess was a baby in its wagon, the
mother at work. Too big a problem for my addled brain. Roses in the
gardens and everything mighty summerish.
December 8th. Beaufort. Air better and wind more to westward, but
think gale northwest needed to blow this fog to sea. Borrowed a box
compass and spent the morning turning and twisting Mascot at end
of wharf until I noted my compass variations. The result surprised
me, for while I knew there was trouble I did not expect to find fault
of one whole point. It was there, however, and undoubtedly due to
my iron ballast. Think have got it noted all right, but it was a long,
vexatious job, and when we went to hotel for dinner we were late
and got only cold pickings but at usual price. The afternoon in
walking and loafing. Beaufort is very good. Besides the picturesque
fishing fleet there is the usual busy main street of a southern town,
lined with all kinds of buildings from shanties to modern store
affairs. Bales of cotton are standing about. Blacksmith welding a
shaft in the street. The high two-wheeled country carts drawn
aimlessly along by one ox. Everybody takes his time, and talks about
it in slow southern drawl.
There are tonight seven or eight launches and big power boats here
besides ourselves. It is great fun to see them come in because the
channel brings them within speaking distance. On shore the natives
stuff them with fearful tales of the dangers to be faced on the trip
outside. This is all with the purpose of getting pilotage fees. I have
heard tides reported as running 50 miles an hour and that is some
tide. H. and I have made friends with an old darkie who was a slave
here in Beaufort. He was in Union army at capture of the Beaufort
forts and served with Col. Stone, Capt. Fuller and wanted to serve
with Col. William Forbes because he was good to his men and looked
so fine in uniform with his head always so high.
December 9th. Turned in last night with sharply falling glass, and
turned out this morning at 3:30 to the tune of rattling halliards and
creaking dock lines. Wind a waspish breeze northwest with flurries of
snow. Got out extra lines and while shivering at the job, out of the
black came little Querida II seeking a bit of quiet as she was
touching the bottom where she lay at anchor. We helped the boys tie
up all snug, and scuttled back to warm blankets for a good snooze.
Turned out about 8:30 to find clearing skies, strong breeze and
falling temperature. New England can give this coast no points on
weather changes. Yesterday about 65 degrees, to-day 30 degrees.
The change gave me a little crinkleums in my back. Wish we were
off and away. Could bruise an awful lot of water by night. Will be to-
morrow I hope. Breakfast on coal fire again. How good and cheery
the warmth. Coffee? Well I guess. All we want three times a day.
Seems as if some few things had contributed very largely to success
of this cruise besides the general outfitting which proved good.
These few suggestions are the coal stove, cotton sheets sewed up
into bags, and the fish cleaning board. Put in the day provisioning up
and filling tanks. For supper went to little one-horse restaurant and
ate our last Beaufort oyster stew. We have had one or two a day
since being here and they are delicious. Made without milk in the
oyster liquor. These little soft oysters are wonderfully sweet and
tasty, but so delicate and small that they wouldn’t bear or pay to
ship.
December 10th. Comes clear and pretty cold. Frost on deck. H.
reported streets hard and ice in gutters. Little Scotty had a dreadful
time of it. She was peacefully sleeping when a gas engine started
ashore and school bell began to ring. The cabin was at once full of
cat. Simply wild with fright, she darted about and finally sought
refuge in her retreat under the cockpit. “Pauvre petit mimi.” It is now
noon, but no coaxing can get her out. Hoisted sail to a very thin
northerly air and with launch at the stern, waved our good-byes to
friends on shore and stood to sea at 9 o’clock. The Beaufort channel
is a twisting little gutter running between nasty shoals. The harbor is
full of range beacons which don’t help strangers much. There is no
need for anybody to run ashore, however, for the water is clear and
the sea breaks on most of the shoals. Outside we turned her W ¼ S
along shore for Bogue Inlet. The westerly airs soon petered out and
left us chugging along on a sea like a mill pond with bright warm
sun to cheer us. Set 2 hour watches as I shall keep along, weather
remaining fit. There are many inlets to run to in fair weather for a
boat of 4 ft. draft, but I fancy it usually happens that a man stays
outside until the sea picks up, and makes running inlet bars
dangerous. The bars off the mouths of the inlets they tell me, trend
to southward and the gutter runs behind them up the beach as it
does in our country. The open beach is fairly bold and if I was put to
it, I think I would crowd on the rags, tie myself in the cockpit and
send her up into the meadow. Make no mistake about that, a good,
bold, sandy beach is much better to walk home on than 10 ft. of
tide-swept water inside a sunken sand spit.
We made our good four knots an hour until about 3 p.m., when
taking a fair westerly breeze we made sail and hugged shore close
hauled on starboard tack. Wind all foozled out by night, and then
came in fitful dampish puffs out of the south. The glass was steady
at 29-9/10 but the sun set in an ugly looking cloud bank, and night
came rather drearily as it does with a soaking, southerly air. We had
the launch on and then off and then some more. Heavy black clouds
swept over and the night was very dark. When the stars broke
through they might have been so many peanuts as far as giving light
went. To me the night down here is most weird and strange. It falls
quickly, and at once the horizon comes seemingly within 25 or 50
yds. of the boat. Beyond is impenetrable, the unknown. In one of
my watches the black horizon suddenly lengthened out to starboard
in a diagonal line that, cutting across my bows only a few yards
ahead, stretched away like a deep black ditch far out over my
starboard quarter. I had a breeze, and as I sailed right at this great
black hole, I was on the point of calling H. to be ready for trouble.
What kind of trouble I didn’t know. In a little while I was again
sailing in my little dark circle as if in a collar box. In another watch a
shift of wind brought a queer light on the sea, and for half an hour I
seemed to be sailing onto a great, snow-covered mountain which I
never reached, but my bow was almost touching it. It might have
been a white mist or perhaps fish, I couldn’t tell. It was all strange
and new even to the porpoises which, leaving a big fiery wake,
would dash alongside, turn and dart right under the boat. One went
under the launch when H. was in her and scared him all right. I slept
little and steered a wide course to keep away from the beach which
having no stones to rattle is unusually silent. Day broke at 6 after a
longish 12 hours of new experience. It caught me laid to under
whole sail with a nasty hubble-bubble on, and no wind to drive. We
were 6 miles off the beach and could just sight Cape Fear. I tacked
in shore at 9 and with nice little air made the beach at 11.
December 11th. The wind not being friendly, hauled out south, and
we took up the job of making it tack for tack along the shore. The
afternoon brought thickening clouds and my glass still standing high
with the southerly air began to make me mighty uneasy as to what
was coming next, for I felt there was a change in store, and soon.
The situation was not a good one. Before dark I could not reach the
slew inside Frying Pan Shoals off Cape Fear. To run 12 miles to sea
and round the shoals meant risking a gale on one of our worst bits
of coast and I had decided that we were soon to have a shift either
northwest or northeast. The sea was comparatively smooth and I
thought that now was the time to take a chance at an inlet. On the
chart the New Inlet with 4 ft. at low water looked good. We reached
it at 3:30 p.m. at low tide, and sailed back and forth outside the line
of breakers to study the water and best place to tackle. There was a
middle ground and the seas seemed less spiteful on southerly side
so we put storm hatches on cockpit, shut cabin doors, took out
scupper plugs and lashed everything down. Gave the launch a 10
fathom tow line and started at it. For genuine excitement give me
the next 12 to 18 hours. We took bottom on the first breaker and
broached to, bilging to seaward on about the third. The fourth came
roaring over cockpit rail, and flooded us knee deep with lanterns, oil
cans, etc., etc. swashing about promiscuously. Fortunately the next
sea pushed us along and threw us over onto other bilge so that we
escaped being flooded again very badly. The launch came whooping
along on her own hook. Just missed hitting us. Brought up on
bottom and rolled over and over with the next breaker and sank. We
got sail off and with the hope of turning her head towards a little
deeper water which we saw some 50 yds. to starboard, Henry
waded out and placed the kedge anchor. Might as well have put out
a sweet potato. We were bound for that middle ground and nothing
would stop us. We were pounding mighty hard, but didn’t jump our
fire so thought we better mug up while there was a chance. Went
below after sounding pump and finding boat tight. Had mess beans
and all you had to do was open your mouth and get beans at every
crash she made, and she made ’em about once a minute.
Centreboard box was weaving all over the cabin and transoms
twisting horridly. Just before dark we tried to get launch up under
our lee in effort to bail her out, for it ain’t so pleasant to look
forward to a long, black 12 hour night, pounding the heart out of
your boat and nix to get ashore with in case of breaking up. After
hard work we dragged old “helpmeet” close aboard and, then came
a big comber to which we rose, and crunch-o, the nose of the launch
went through our bilge for a 6 in. hole. Up she went again, and
bang-o, there was another hole. My eye! we would soon be a
pepperbox at that rate. Before another surge caught us we twisted
her bow round with the spinnaker pole and a sea catching her, rolled
her over and away. Things were getting interesting. I ran below for
hammer, tacks and canvas. Water already over cabin floor. Lanterns
all filled with salt water, but with the last of daylight and using his
hammer under water, Henry cleverly put on a canvas patch. We
sounded pumps and after half an hour they sucked. Some relief to
that sound. Believe me. Could do nothing more, so went below,