“Sir, I hasten to inform you that War was this day declared against Great Britain.”
The rectangular shapes of the stone wharf and its gray-clad buildings stand out against the formless grandeur of a sunlit sky, a layer of light clouds softening the colors in this oil painting by William Duffy. It’s evening at the American Yacht Club in Rye, New York, as the small boats tied up at the dock fade into irregular shapes in the dying light.
“A year-round home with lots of space inside and out for family and friends” is how Nikki Joffe describes the waterfront house she and her husband, Michael, own in Toms River, New Jersey. The couple purchased the four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath ranch in 2006 because it was near the beach, offered quick boat access to Barnegat Bay and had a mother-in-law suite.
The pale light of a new day falls on a skipjack lying alongside a wharf on Maryland’s Eastern shore. It’s early morning at Dogwood Harbor on Tilghman Island, and all is quiet aboard the Rebecca T. Ruark.
We are en route to Panama from French Polynesia, heading backward against the prevailing winds and current. Just 840 nautical miles remain on this passage that began almost 4,000 nautical miles ago, off Raiatea. A strangely familiar bird is circling Cochise, our recently launched FPB 78.
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