Emily Gray

2nd  Place – 7-9 Grade Category

8th Grade -  Home School  

Hometown - Oswego

“A Fictitious Story of a True Event”

  *          *          * 

            May 5, 1814.  Mary was busy sweeping the floor and heating the porridge.  She was starting the day like she always did, but her brow was creased together in worry lines.  Ever since the beginning of the war – the war of 1812 – she was worried about her family’s safety.

            Mary was only twelve when her family decided to relocate to Fort Ontario.  The Fort was on the top of a slope, well armed, and had more than 400 men to keep it.  Yes, this was the best thing for the Morris household.

            “Mary?” inquired a tousled, bright eyed eight year old boy.  “Mary, when will breakfast be ready?  I’m hungry.”

            “You’re always hungry,” said a scornful ten year old boy.

            “Well I’m hungry, Gabriel.  I haven’t eaten in hours!”

            “Me too,” piped up a little five year old.

            “Me too, whined a six year old.

            “Me too, squeaked a three year old.

            A baby was heard crying.  Mary sighed.  “Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and woke up the baby.  Breakfast will not be ready til later.  Go outside and keep out of my hair!  Out!  Out!”

            After the myriad of children left the house, Mary went into the room where she and her siblings slept.  She picked up the bawling baby and cooed to him until he stopped fussing.  By the time she went back to her porridge it was ruined.  She sighed again to herself as she scraped the pot out and fed it to the pig outside.  A little later the porridge was bubbling again.  Mary went to the front door and called out to the children.  They all came scrambling back and pushed and raced back into the small three room house.  Mary let them serve themselves while she looked across the street.

            Ruth Nelson was sweeping her porch across the street from Mary’s while her ten other siblings were doing other industrious, quiet tasks.  Mary saw through the open doorway a clean kitchen.  Ruth’s mother was sitting calmly sewing.

            “How does she do it?”  Mary muttered to herself as she turned back to her own untidy kitchen.  Suddenly she saw her older brother running down the street.

            “Mary! Mary! Where’s Mother?  I have news.  Bad news.  The British are here.  They have not attacked, but we expect that there will be trouble.  I have to get back to my post now.  Let mother know.”

            Mary stood stunned for a moment.  Then she went into the house to talk to her exhausted, pregnant mother.  Mary’s mother was sitting up, eating porridge.

*          *            *

            Hours later, Mary heard shots.  It wasn’t from the British, thank God; it was from the Fort.  The shots continued, and every so often a loud boom came from the cannon.  But there was no sound of cracking wood, no screaming, no cursing, not a sound from the British ships.  The bullets were not reaching the fleet.  Mary was so intent on listening to the sound of bullets she didn’t see a regiment of about 50 men marching down the street til they were almost in front of her.  She stared dumbly at them, wondering what they were up to.  In the middle of the regiment was her brother, Benjamin.  “Ben!  Where are you going?  Ben!”  She realized now where they were going – out of the fort to attack the British. 
           

*          *            *

Mary was tired.  The British had left, firing only six shots.  Mary did not know whether or not Benjamin was alive.  The children for once went to bed without a fuss.  It seemed that even they understood the seriousness of the evening.  Or maybe, as Mary personally thought, they were simply tuckered out from the excitement of the day.  At any rate, it was time to go to bed, but Mary was having trouble sleeping.  She had this deep fear that the British would come back and kill them during her sleep.  She was finally at the doorway of dreams when she heard the hurried marching of men by her house.  Mary peeked out the window and saw a small regiment of soldiers carrying barrels of gunpowder, bullets, extra food and such out of the Fort.

            “What are they up to?” puzzled Mary.

            “Mary. Mary? Mary!”

            Mary hurried to tend her distressed mother and thought no more of the soldiers exiting the Fort.

*          *            *

            The next morning, May 6, was foggy.  The Fort was surrounded by a soft, yet encroaching, haze.  No one could see anything on the lake.  The soldiers were uneasy.  Were the British there?  Or were they worrying for nought?

            Mary’s mind was in a fog too.  She had trouble thinking clearly.  She burnt the porridge three times, and it wasn’t even the children’s fault.  They just sat at the table expectantly, calmly, and hungrily.  After the third ruining of porridge Gabriel offered to make it.

            “You need rest Mary.  I’ll do it.”

            Mary sat down and let Gabriel take over.  Little Naomi smiled benevolently at the tired Mary.  Mary smiled back and then sighed. What’s the matter with me?

*          *            *

“The British are here!  The British are here!  To Arms!  To Arms!  Battle stations!”

The fog had finally cleared when Mary heard the announcement.  She heard marching, and saw a platoon of soldiers marching half time out of the Fort.

“Everyone!  To the cellar.  Now!”

Everyone immediately ran helter-skelter to the cellar.  Mary went to assist her Mother.  Once everyone was down there, she blocked off the cellar door making it impossible for outsiders to enter.  They heard shots, shouting, cursing, battle calls, drums, and more horrendous war sounds.

Fifteen minutes later she hears a loud voice proclaiming, “The Fort is ours!  God save the King!”

Mary felt sickened.  Fort Ontario taken?  By the British?  The baby started crying.  Mary picked him up and comforted him.

“It’s all right little one.  It’s all right.”

*          *            *

It was May 7, two days after the British were first sighted.  Mary opened the cellar door cautiously.  She gasped.  Fort Ontario was completely decimated.  Smoke rose up from the ashes of the once great Fort.  The smoke stung Mary’s eyes.  She looked about warily, fearing that one of the British had been left behind.  She was about to call down to her cramped siblings down below when she spotted someone.  It was a man in uniform.  As to what uniform, it was hard to tell.

“Ben?”

The man turned to look at Mary.

“Mary?”

Mary ran to her older brother.

“Ben?  Where were you during the attack?  What happened?  Oh Ben, you worried us so!”

“Mary, it’s nice to see you too.  Where’s Mother?”

“She’s in the cellar.  So, where were you?”

“Well, I helped get valuable supplies out of here so that if the British captured the Fort they would not have al of our supplies.  I would have come sooner, but I had to help them there.  I was worried about you.  When I heard the British had burned the Fort I was scared for you.  At least you’re all alive!”

“Yes.  I am glad too.  Ben, do you suppose that we can win this war?”

Ben laughed.  “Yes.  We will get ‘em yet Mary.  Just wait and see.  This was isn’t over yet.”       

Samantha Davis

2nd Place – 4-6 Grade Category

5th Grade  - Home School

Hometown - Oswego

“A Story of Courage”

It was a beautiful day in Oswego.  The sun was shining, and the lake was glimmering.  Puffy white clouds floated effortlessly across the baby blue sky, and seagulls flew over the docks.  This was the kind of day that Caleb loved.  It seemed as if the whole world was at rest.  Caleb Johnson was eighteen years old.  He had brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses that were always in place.  He was quiet and reserved, and he always did his duty.  He loved his job as a sailor on the Diana, which had sleek and beautifully shined wooden sides, and intricate figurehead, and the best sailors that ever sailed the seven seas.  They were all Caleb’s friends, but he had a close relationship with the second mate, his childhood buddy, Nathan Baker.  They shared secrets, played pranks on people, and never lied to one another.  It was a pure and beautiful relationship that ran between them.  And Caleb would do anything to make it last.

            “I’m home!” Caleb shouted as he ran into his house, wiped his feet on the rug and kicked off his boots.  Instantly, a group of seven children came from around the corner and rushed towards him, hugging him and asking him what he had brought home for them.  These were his siblings.  Hannah, Paige, Gwen, Julie, Matt, Will and David.  They were a lot to handle, but he loved them all the same.  “What did you do today Caleb?” asked Matt as he tugged on his shirt sleeve and pushed Samantha out of the way so he could focus all of his attention on him.  “Normal duties,” he said and patted him on the head.  “Caleb, can you take me to the store?  I have to buy some ribbon for my dollies,” Julie stated.  Caleb nodded and managed to gasp out, “Maybe in a little while.”  He sighed.  He then sat down in the chair as his privacy was invaded by his siblings.  Luckily, his mother came into the room and yelled out to all of her children, “Dinner time!”  That simple statement saved Caleb as all of his brothers and sisters ran towards their dinner.  There they would stay for the next hour.  Caleb would get some rime of relaxation.

            The next day, Caleb got up, got dressed, and ate a simple breakfast of bread and butter.  He then left the house to go to work.  When he passed the dress shop, he smiled as he saw Nathan’s mother.  But his smile didn’t last long.  Soon, Mrs. Baker broke out in sobs as someone came up to her and told her something that Caleb could not hear.  Assuming that she had been told something concerning Nathan, Caleb rushed towards the docks, his heart thumping with worry.  When he climbed on board, the faces of his fellow sailors went a shock of panic through his body.  What had happened here?  As the captain walked out of his cabin, Caleb ran over and asked anxiously, “What happened?  Why is everybody so upset?  Tell me!” he yelled in frustration.  The captain put a hand on Caleb’s shoulder to calm him down.  “Lad, this might be a bit of a shock, but the Diana…” the captain trailed off as a cloud of worry overcame his face.  Then, with forced braveness, he said, “The Diana has been conscripted, and renamed the Hamilton.  All able bodied seamen are ordered to report for duty.  We shall set sail tomorrow.”  And that was that.  All of the sailors would have to leave their homes to risk their lives in the war.  They would have to leave their families behind and they might never see them again.  The shock of the news was so great, that Caleb couldn’t move.  All he did was watch the commotion in the street as everyone learned the news.  The ship would be leaving the Oswego harbor tomorrow.

            That night, Caleb told his family the news.  Everybody was heart broken, especially his mother.  After dinner he went up to his room and started to pack.  He took only the basics, and nothing that was valuable.  Who knows what could happen.  He was trusting his future to the sea and the enemy.

            The next morning, Caleb got up early.  He and his family walked sadly towards the docks.  This was the day.  Should he be proud that he was fighting for his country?  Yes.  But for some reason, he wasn’t.  He only felt sad.  And even now, he felt homesick.  “Well, I guess this is goodbye then?” his mother whispered as she held Caleb tightly against her.  “Caleb, I will always love you.  I am proud of you.”  She cried, as she let go and watched her son climb into the boat.  And as the boat sailed away she still cried, as she thought of what might happen out at sea.

            Wind whipped around the sail, tearing it to shreds.  The Hamilton was the prey of the sea.  A sudden storm had hit Lake Ontario, and now, as the sailors had feared, they were all going to die.  Caleb gasped for breath as cold spray stung his face, and water threatening the ship.  Some of the sailors had already tumbled out of the Hamilton and very few were still alive.  Right then, as Caleb witnessed, Nathan, desperately holding on to the side of the ship, was thrown overboard into the water.  His cries for help were soon drowned out by the roar of the sea.  Caleb collapsed on the deck, tears streaming down his face.  Surrounded by the most terrifying situation of his life, all he could think about was the loss of his best friend.  Then, as suddenly as it had happened to Nathan, Caleb too was thrown overboard.  And now, all he could see was the gray of the merciless water.

            Caleb gagged as a quart of water came out of his mouth.  As he looked around him, all he could see was the sea surrounding him.  There was no land, and no ships.  All he could see was the scrap of wood that he was hanging onto.  Somehow he had survived the storm, and was now out in the middle of nowhere.  “What happened to me?” he asked himself.  Then suddenly, he remembered and burst into tears.  The memory of that terrible night was haunting his mind.  As sadness overwhelmed him, he fell asleep, hoping that somehow, the water would carry him home.

            A month later, Caleb had returned to Oswego.   His homecoming was celebrated throughout his family.  As one of the survivors, Caleb was a hero.  And among those that had died out at sea, Nathan was mourned.  To this day, the Hamilton rests at the bottom of Lake Ontario.  She fought her battle, and was a hero.  But the best heroes of all were the ones, like Caleb, that had risked their lives fighting for their country.  This was their story of courage.     

 Brittany Sager

3rd Place – 10-12 Grade Category

 th Grade  - Paul V. Moore High School

Hometown - Central Square

“Cedar Walls”

Anna had always been fond of cedar, its strong smell resting on her shoulder like the gentle press of a father’s hand.  It reminded her of the deep forests she had spent many hours wandering during the summer as she scoped the land for next year’s perfect Christmas tree.  The smell lifted her soul, filling her lungs which always gasped for air.  It was ironic now, how she was surrounded by four cedar walls and yet she’d never felt so terrified in her entire life.

            She lifted her hand to the smooth wall, letting her worn fingertips claw against the cedar as if she could somehow cut through it.*  Her ring finger nicked a patch of wood that someone had carelessly forgotten while sanding it down.  She pulled back in reflex, letting out a soft whine that she quickly suppressed with her hand, pushing her palm into her teeth to remind her that she must stay silent.

            At first Anna had been able to hear voices.  Her mother’s soft words had been replaced with muffled syllables full of fear and anxiety.  Then there was shuffling, moving chairs, and closing doors.  Now there was silence.  The only noise left to hear was the rhythm of her pulse beating fast inside of her chest.

            The darkness of the hole consumed Anna and left her in a dreamy state.  She closed her eyes which were swollen from quiet tears and began to remember.  The first memory that came was of Mama’s warning.  “I’ll call for ya everyday,” she had said, “by usin’ this whistle.”  She lifted the small metal object to her mouth and gave it a gentle blow.  A smooth, high-pitched sound came from the little whistle, reminding Anna of the flute player she had once seen at the market.  He had been an older man, wandering the streets playing his flute and hoping that someone would only take the time to listen.  Her mother had given her a nickel that day to spend as she chose and even though Anna had already spotted a vendor selling sweet ice, she had given that poor man a nickel to hear him play a song for her with his lovely wooden flute.

            I’ll only blow it once, long ‘n steady.  You’ll have to listen’ ta hear it.  This’ll mean you gotta come right home.  But if I blow the whistle short, over and over again, it’ll mean that we’re in danger and you’ve gotta run home’s fast as your legs will let you.  Are you listen’?” “Yes Mama,” Anna had said with sincerity but she had never thought much of it until that one day when the whistle blew early, filling the air with short, shallow sounds.

            Anna had been in the woods that day for hours.  She had discovered a red squirrel gathering chestnuts from the tall trees and pushing them into his mouth.  She had been following him all day as he ran from tree to tree only stopping when his mouth was too full and he needed to bury his prized possessions.  She was surprised to hear the whistle so early in the day.  She was even more surprised when it wasn’t the same long and steady sound.  The whistle continued to blow, guiding her in the right direction.  She could only hope that the wind would not deceiver her and lead her farther into the woods.

            She ran so hard she almost forgot to breathe.  Her lungs closed in and the air around her became thick.  Breathing had never been easy for Anna, but she knew she must keep running.  Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, telling her to run harder, faster.  The soles of her shoes were thin and every so often a tough stick would poke her heal and send scorching pain up the center of her foot.  The wind carried Anna’s sundress and for once in her life she was glad her mother made her wear such silly little dresses that Anna had never felt comfortable in.  The passing tree branches dug into her arms, leaving small droplets of blood over her pale, white skin.  Her ankles itched with rashes and her thighs ached with pain, but Anna knew she had to keep running if she was going to save her life.

            Once Anna had reached her safe haven, her mother quickly approached her.  She had never seen her mother the way she appeared right then.  Her eyes were dark with worry, her pupils dilated so largely that is was hard to find the speck of brown which was surely hiding in them.  Mama didn’t speak a word.  Instead, she pushed Anna into the house through the white spring door that creaked with pleasure.  She motioned her to the cabinet near the stove filled with spices and bottles and then she reached for the jar or honey.  Confused, Anna watched in awe as her mother pushed in the bottle only to reveal a secret room with cedar walls, small and dark.  Her mother laid her frail hands on her shoulders and guided Anna into the room.  Before she closed the hidden door Mama pressed her one fragile finger against her pink lips, cracked with age, and let out a soft “shhh” that could have been heard from craters of the moon.

            Now, sitting in the dark cedar room, Anna remembered her mother’s last words to her which were not really words at all.  A gentle droplet fell from her eye and brushed her check, making its final plunge to the floor.  She laid her head back against the wall, inhaling the wood, and tried to think of better things.

            She thought of the journey which had brought her here, to this home, and led her to safety.  She thought about the old mill she and mama slaved on in the hot summers without water and only their large sun hats to protect them from the sun’s might.  She thought of her old name, Aneesa, which means “companion” in Swahili and how her mother had changed it to “Anna” so that she would not be an outcast in this new land.  For some, these thoughts may have had a melancholic effect, but for her it was the opposite.  Remembering her past made Anna feel triumphant.  The battles she had gone through and the villains she had faced had been worth stepping onto soft soil that no one could lead her off of.

            “Freedom,” Mama said, more times then she could remember.  That was why they’d gone.  Mama said one day, everyone’s going to be free because they’ll finally see that inside we’re all the same, despite the masks we wear on the outside.  But for now, we had to go north to where the people already knew what freedom was.  It was not a complicated thing Anna thought, but there must have been a reason why some people just couldn’t see what freedom really was.

            There was shuffling outside.  Anna stiffened with fear, holding in her breath as not to give her hiding spot away.  Someone was touching the jars.  Surely they would discover that the honey would not budge.  Surely they would push the jar in.  Surely, she would be discovered.  She brought her knees up to her chin, trying to make herself as small as possible.  She closed her eyes hoping that they could not see her if she could not see them.  She clung to her rosary tucked neatly in her dress and prayed to God to make her invisible.  The door then opened, releasing a quiet moan.  Bright light flooded the four cedar walls so strong that Anna’s eyes hurt despite being closed.  She could sense someone’s presence, but they did not reach for her.  Instead they were still, as if waiting for her to make the first move.  Slowly, Anna built up the courage to open her eyes, burning in the white light.  After a few moments to adjust she made out a woman’s figure.  “Mama!” she screamed like a lost child.  Her mother pulled her arms around her in a quiet embrace.  Relief set in, and then curiosity.  “What happened Mama, what are we now?”  Anna said with hesitation.  “Now…” Mama said, finding strength in her words.  “Now, we are free.”

Hannah Valentino

3rd Place – 7-9 Grade Category

5th Grade  - Home School

Hometown - Mexico

“Oswego Biscuits”

The drone of the fog horn was the only noise that I could hear as the ship made its way into the fog covered harbor.  The invisible, choppy water smashed the boat, and the stench of algae was strong.

            “Finally, the journey ends,” I thought wistfully looking into the fog seeing nothing but gray.  My mood matched the weather.  The memories of the letter from my aunt swept through my mind again.  I remembered when Father told me I’d be leaving Italy to stay with my aunt in a place that Americans called Oswego.  My mother’s family would bring me to America to help my father and me.

            He had told me to leave my favorite doll and paints behind.  He said that I was big now being almost 12.  I remembered saying good bye.  I didn’t cry.  When I was first told that my mother died, I wouldn’t eat for two days, but I didn’t cry.  When my father’s business went bankrupt, I was sad but I didn’t cry.

            “There you are,” interrupted Mrs. Armello who had been watching over me during the long boat ride from Italy.  Finally, the boat landed, the ramp was set down onto the deck, and people started pouring down the ramp.

            “Come along now, Adriana,” Mrs. Armello said as she carried her bags to the gangway.  Mrs. Armello and I slowly advanced onto the crowded dock.  People were everywhere and so was the noise.  The fog was lighter now, and a drizzle began to fall.  It was just enough to make people miserable.

            “Adriana, I’m to bring you to your aunt’s house.  Then, I will have to depart to my brother’s house.”

            Before I knew it, I was standing at the door of my aunt’s house.  The house was small with a tidy front yard.  It was painted gray with few windows and had an attic for a second story.  It was pitiful to me.  The door opened and a short, round woman greeted me with a hug.  Her eyes were just like Mama’s.  Mrs. Armello was gone.  I don’t even think I said good bye.

            All I wanted to do was sleep.  My aunt showed me to my room.  “Make yourself at home, Adriana,” said my Aunt Angelica as she closed the door leaving me.  The room was on the top of the house and was very plain.  It had white walls, a white curtain covering the only window, a wooden floor, and a neat, white bed.  I laid down my bag and sighed.  The next moment, I was on the bed asleep.

            When I awoke, I realized I must have been asleep for hours because it was late afternoon.  My aunt made a delicious dinner even though it reminded me of Italy which made me feel sad.

            Aunt Angelica suggested that she and I take a walk out to the harbor after dinner.  I was eager for a walk, and I agreed immediately.  The rain from earlier was gone and the sky was clear.

            “The harbor is beautiful at sunset,” commented my aunt as we continued on our walk.  The walk was short, silent, and dull.  I was starting to regret even going when I caught a glimpse of the lake and gasped.  The sun was just peeking over the top showering the lake with blue, orange, purple, and red.  The evening starts started to come out.  It was perfect.

            “If only I had my paints!” I sighed staring into the sunset.  Aunt Angelica just nodded slightly.  The next morning, I woke up and on a small night stand next to the bed laid a small red paint box.

            Even though the paint box was small, it had three paint brushes and several different colors.  I rushed down the steps with the paint box tucked underneath my arm; Aunt Angelica was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled delicious when I rushed into the kitchen.

            “Did you give me this box?” I asked.  She just smiled and nodded.

            “Thank you, thank you so much,” I blurted.

            I gobbled down the food not even noticing the flavors at all, but when I bit into one of the biscuits on the plate I couldn’t help but slow down.  They were delicious!  They had a crunchy outside with a soft middle and were buttery all throughout.  I slowly munched, savoring the flavor.  After breakfast, my aunt gave me some canvas to paint on and I ran out the door.  The street was busy with carriages and people.  I followed the path that my aunt and I had taken and looked at the harbor.

            There was no sunset, but instead there was a boat that had such pretty sails.

            “I must paint it,” I murmured and hastily set up a canvas and started.  Slowly, the boat started to appear on the canvas.  By early afternoon the painting was done, but I didn’t leave until an hour later.  The lake was so peaceful and quiet.  When I finally went back to the house, I rushed upstairs to write my father and tell him about the beautiful harbor, my paints, and the delicious biscuits.

            The two months following that day went by like a dream.  I was always painting and even though I had no friends my age, I was never lonely.  Aunt Angelica made her biscuits every breakfast.  I always ate them and then darted off to the harbor or river, and would almost all the time come back with a painting.  If not a painting, I’d have a very small sketch of a boat or the light house.

            The letter from my father came at the end of August.  I ripped open the envelope and eagerly read it out loud.

            “My dear Adriana, I am happy and have such good news.  I got your letter about your aunt’s biscuits and remembered the recipe that your mother used when you were young.  I have started a new business and I am selling the delicious biscuits.  They are incredibly popular and I am having difficulty making enough.  I have hired a few men to help me bake and have been doing well.  I will have enough money saved soon to bring you home.  I miss you so much.”

            I was completely shocked.  I was so happy for my father and yet was filled with sadness.  In the time that I had been with my aunt in Oswego, I didn’t know how much I had grown attached to Oswego, the harbor, the lighthouse, and especially Aunt Angelica.  I didn’t want to leave this beautiful place, and yet I knew that I needed to return to my father.  I was surprised to find myself crying and hugging my aunt.  She was like a mother to me these past few months.

            “I’ll miss you, and the harbor, your biscuits, everything,” I cried.

Tory Welsch

3rd Place – 4-6 Grade Category

5th Grade  - Kingsford Park School

Hometown - Oswego

“My Journal Written by The William McGonagle”  

Interpreted By Tory Welsch

Inspired by the ship’s log of The William A. McGonagle, dated July 1972

July 12, 1972

4:45 am

            I am the William A McGonagle, and I am 56 years old.  I proudly display a brass “P”, which stands for the Pittsburg Steamship company.  My crew has just finished loading.  One of my crewmen, Ed Ostrowski, says I am his favorite ship!  We are leaving the dock for my twelfth journey this year, from Gary, Indiana, to Duluth, to Lorain, Ohio.  The full trip will take over six days!  John McDough is the captain.  It is a bit hazy with 10 mph winds out of the Southwest.

5:00 am

            The workers are pumping out my ballast.  I feel very clean because both of my tanks were drained and scrubbed two days ago.  My radar was inspected on April 10.  I am carrying 13,606 tons of cargo!  It is not weighing me down one bit, though.  I’m 600 feet long, 60 feet wide, and 32 feet deep.  Just a little cargo isn’t going to hurt me!  One thing is worrying me, though.  It takes 278 tons of fuel to make this trip, but I only have 250.  I hope we stop to buy fuel.  If we don’t I won’t make it to Lorain! 

11:50 am

            It is Larry Stotz’s turn to be captain.  This voyage looks as if it is off to a good start.  The weather is now cloudy, but it looks like a nice day.

6:49 pm

            The last six hours have been uneventful, which is good in some ways.  We were just synchronizing our clocks when we passed the Little Sable Lighthouse.

11:45 pm

            It is almost the end of the first day of our trip.  I must admit that I’m pretty tired.  We’re passing Point Betsie and Sleeping Bear.  I think Sleeping Bear is a funny island.  It is actually shaped like a bear!  There is no change in the ballast.

July 13, 1972

2:30 am

            The wind has changed to East-Northeast.  It is getting to be very cloudy.  I hope there is not a storm!  I have heard of some nasty storms in this area and do not wish to witness one.

7:21 am

            Luckily, the barometer has kept steady for the last five hours.  It looks like there won’t be a storm after all.  There are just some patches of fog.  We are passing St. Helena Island.  A few people are waving at me from the shore.  I must admit I’m pretty handsome.  I even posed for a postcard in my younger days! 

12:00 noon 

            We are stopping to buy 153 tons of fuel in the town o Detour.  Whew!  Now I know for sure I’ll have enough to make the rest of the trip. 

4:00 pm 

            I am starting to get bored.  I wish there would be some drills.  They are always exciting!  The whistles are checked along with the telegraphs.  My favorites are the crew practices and the fire drills.  The only drill I don’t like is the abandon ship drill, when they launch the lifeboats and the crewmen practice leaving me to sink.  I don’t like to think about it!  It takes about an hour to run through all the drills.