Open Channel

Boat/US Magazine, Jan, 2002 by Richard J. Mansker

As a teenager in 1944, I was the skipper of a 10-foot rowboat with a centerboard and small sail. One Saturday I took a friend for a sail on Bellingham Bay in Washington state.

We were closer to Lummi Island than Bellingham port when a storm came up. The white caps were higher than my freeboard. I came about and headed for home but my little boat didn't beat into the wind very well. I took a bearing on the cement factory smokestack on Chuckanut Mountain. An hour later the bearings were the same. We weren't getting anywhere.

I became afraid but I could not show it before my friend, George.

A steamer was going to port about a mile away and George stood up and cried, "Help, help, help" at the top of his voice. I said, "George, sit down. I know they can't hear you and I doubt if they see us. Our little sail probably looks just like the white caps." I put the oars in the locks and started to row as well as sail. I was growing desperate.

George said, "I should pray harder."

I was struck with conviction because I believed in prayer and hadn't done it yet. I was too busy fighting the storm.

I said "Good idea, George. I'll pray too." So loud and clear I prayed, "Lord, change the wind so we can sail in, or stop the wind so we can row in, or send out a boat to tow us in."

No sooner had I said, "Amen" than we noticed a dot on the water near port. It got bigger and bigger. It was a boat coming straight for us. I knew it was coming to rescue us so I took down the sail and mast, took up the centerboard and brought in the rudder and lashed it all secure. By that time the skipper had pulled along side and tossed me a towline.

As we climbed over the stem into his vessel George said quietly to me, "I wish you'd have prayed for some sandwiches."

Soon afterward the skipper said, "Go below boys. You'll find some hot roast beef sandwiches. I saw you go out this morning and I knew you hadn't come back and I knew you'd be in trouble so I came looking for you."

I thank God for that thoughtful mariner who went to rescue two novice sailors.

That was the last time I sailed until recently. I am the son of what I believe was one of the best wooden boatbuilders that ever lived. His name was Acme Otto Mansker. During World War II, he was a superintendent of The Northwest Shipbuilding Co. of Bellingham, WA. It existed only for and during the war. He knew boats and he knew men, so he was able to make the switch from wood to steel and ended his career as a leader in Todds Shipbuilding in Seattle. Some of his work, plans and models are on display at the Columbia River Maritime Museum in Astoria, OR.

I retired from the Pastorate in 1993 and now I work part time. I had an assignment in Annapolis, MD, some years ago and when I first arrived I never saw so many sailboats in one place in my life. I went by a yacht yard beside the highway every day and one day stopped in and began admiring a Compac yacht. The sales lady said it would be $3,000 for boat and trailer. I couldn't believe it.

My love for sailing was revived. I joined BoatU.S. in 1997, subscribed to Sail, took a Coast Guard Auxiliary course, a three-day Annapolis Sailing School course and purchased a 14.5-foot daysailer. So now I am sailing again.

I enjoy your BoatU.S. Magazine very much.

Note: Richard J. Mansker of Harpursville, NY, passed away recently but not before he rekindled his love for boating.