It was just a couple of weeks ago that I said we were looking for a boat in the fifteen-to-seventeen foot range, with me leaning toward fifteen and Kevin leaning toward nineteen.
That was supposed to be a joke, but we are now the owners of a nineteen-foot Eastern, a broad-beamed fiberglass fishing boat with a center console and a 70-horsepower Johnson outboard. We took it for its inaugural voyage today, launching at the north end of Cotuit Bay. We tootled around the calm water in the bay, with Kevin at the helm and me lolling in the bow, thinking how very spacious the boat was.
Then we went out through the cut between Cotuit and Sampson’s Island, out into Nantucket Sound. All of a sudden, the terrain shifted. The waves were feet instead of inches, and as the boat rode up them and plunged down them, I felt my heart beat faster. I knew that, as waves go, these were pretty tame. I knew that the boat was built to handle much, much more serious water than this. But it’s hard to talk yourself out of fear.
Over the sound of the engine and the slap of the boat against the water, I heard Kevin saying something to me. I couldn’t quite make it out, so I turned around to face him and put my hand to my ear. He repeated it, and this time I heard him quite distinctly.
“You still want a smaller boat?” He was grinning devilishly.
No. No, I don’t want a smaller boat, thank you very much.