The Nantucket Lightship and the "The Old Man"

Good evening, all ♥

I apologize for not having posted in awhile;

ever since returning from Spring Break,

school has been incredibly hectic.

... but I'm back (for now!)

and would like to share with you a very

interesting experience I had a few hours ago.

My mom and I, while doing the laundry in Oyster Bay,

took a short drive to one of my favorite
Long Island beaches: Beekman beach.

Docked at Beekman, for quite a few years now,

floats The Nantucket Lightship.

This ship was once used as a protection barge

to warn other incoming ships that they were

entering into the perilous Nantucket Shoals.

 It lit up during the night to mark the barrier,
and continued to do so for 26 years

until it was moved here to this spot on Long Island.

Mind you, although I've seen this ship many times in the past,

I never knew any of this information until my visit today

(and no, I didn't read any plaque or brochure)

... that's how the story gets interesting!

While standing on the dock adjacent to this colossal ship,

I see a little old man walking towards us from afar.

Thinking he's just another local enjoying the sunset,

I turn around and continue snapping pictures.

Once he gets closer though, he immediately asks,

"So, do you know anything about her?"

Shaking our heads politely, the old man, 

in a heavy Maine accent, dives right into 

the history of the Lightship, and his own intriguing past.

He tells us that he grew up on the coast of Maine,

and has been fishing for as long as he could remember;

"My dad was a fisherman, my grandfather was a 

fisherman, and my grandfather before him was a fisherman too."

He left school early to continue fishing, 

and soon joined the Merchant Marines.

He told us everything I wrote about the ship previously;

how the Nantucket Lightship stood guard for 26 years

at the Nantucket Shoals, the site of many a shipwreck;

and was moved here a few years ago to await restoration.

He read in Newsday that it was bought for $2 from 

some group up in Boston who wanted to restore it. 

It was scheduled to be towed a week or so later 

from the date of the article, "but that was already 3 months ago,"

he told us, so he wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen.

 He predicted, though, that they'd probably send the ship out 

some time in the next couple of weeks, which was the

reason why he was here, "to take one last look at her."

Now why I'm telling you all of this is not

because of the accounts he gave about the ship,

but rather the wonderful accounts of his own life that followed:

 He told us that his grandfather took frequent trips to sea,
and was his habit to bring his daughter (the old man's mother)
back a doll from every port he visited.

One time he was coming back from a long voyage,

and heading for Boston harbor, when the ship 

he was on edged near the Nantucket Shoals 

and veered off course. The ship floundered on the shoals 

but the men were able to get a small boat out with 

which to get to shore. His grandfather got into the boat, 

but jumped up suddenly, telling his mates he had forgotten 

something and would be right back. His mates tried to stop him, 

warning him about the waves and the danger surrounding them, 

but he didn't seem to hear. He jumped back into the battered ship, 

thinking he could outsmart the wind and the water; all to get his 

little girl the doll he had promised her. Just as his hand grasped 

the souvenir, the ship slid off the shoals, and sunk with 

the old man's grandfather still aboard... both lost at sea forever.

 

We asked him how he ended up in Long Island,

and he answered that he "heard down here that
the rich people needed seamen to guide their yachts,"

so he came and did just that for quite some time,
eventually becoming a Captain of one of them.

He told us it was "because of a girl" that he

continued residing on Long Island for good.

Laughing, my mother said, "That'll do it!"

Not returning her laughter, the old man

lowered his eyes to the wooden planks
of the dock and said, very sadly,
that his wife died three months ago.

Expressing our condolences, the tone

of our exchange visibly dimmed down,
 and after a few unmemorable words,
we decided then to say our goodbyes.

Giving us one last feeble wave, 

the old man turned around and
walked towards the end of the dock,

looking over his shoulder occasionally 

at the limitless, vacant stretch of Long Island Sound.

We never got his name.

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♥