In what must have been October of 1962 the Tabor Academy junior varsity football team played Nantucket's high school. We were transported to the venue via the Tabor Boy and a Block Island 40. I remember Mr. Stackpole captained the yawl and Captain Glazier the Tabor Boy.I remember passing by Woods Hole and the infamous Buoy #7. Fog hung like wet ghostly sheets and there, as promised, it, the buoy we had heard about in class, appeared.
Everyone got a shift at the helm. Captain Glazier would get you set on course then go about his business. If you varied from the course he'd sense it and be back at the helm to get you corrected. As cynical as I was, Captain Glazier was not a person I wanted to let down. He was different from all the other faculty by virtue of his first hand knowledge of something very real and potentially dangerous. After he got you back on course he'd tell you relax, you're doing fine. The trip was long and we arrived around 9 PM (I think). On the dock there was a welcoming group from the school. The marching band was playing high football appropriate music, wizened reedy and out of tune. We hoisted our duffel bags as we prepared to disembark. John( I think)Gelsthorpe stepped off the Tabor Boy , misalculating the whereabouts of the dock,he dropped into the dark water below. I believe the band stopped playing and ran to look over the edge of the bulkhead. Young Mr. Gelsthorpe and his duffel bag were fished out none worse for the wear. We went off to stay with our Nantucket hosts. Not an hour later we were drinking Narragansett, standing in the bulrushes with our new friends. We must have looked like a dark Goya painting