On being the Captain

Claud W. Somers under sail on Ingram Bay

I had never used my USCG Master’s credentials for anything other than convincing charter companies to let me do bareboat charters in the Caribbean. I’d been mate and deckhand on a few USCG inspected vessels, but never the Captain, the one in charge. Then the previous skipper of the Claud W. Somers retired from the program and there were only two of us left that had our license … The Somers is owned and operated by the Reedville Fishermen’s Museum as both part of the Museum collection and as a small passenger vessel. The Captain and crew are all volunteers, which is both a blessing and a curse: people vote with their feet in volunteer programs if the boat doesn’t sail.

The other Captain and I decided to split the duties and continue taking the boat out. The Claud W. Somers is one of the few historic skipjacks left afloat on the Chesapeake and it seemed a shame to let her sit at the dock. Skipjacks are designed for oyster dredging in the Chesapeake Bay; shallow draft, with 1300 SQFT of sail area, and a small underpowered push-boat to provide propulsion when not under sail. I find her really beautiful to sail, a close to beam reach being her best point of sail, but she is a pig under power. She was built in 1911 and worked the oyster beds for nearly 90 years before being acquired by the Museum.

For me the trial by fire finally came on a breezy September day in 2023 when we had a full boat 21 passengers, 4 crew and me as captain: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhd06Xo3s48.

We’d had a few passenger sails in calm weather over the summer, but usually the crew outnumbered the passengers. Now we had a full boat and the beginning of the autumn winds had filled in on the Chesapeake. Once we made it out past Fleeton Point on Cockrell’s Creek and were well into Ingram Bay we headed into the wind and raised sail. The wind had seemed a moderate breeze from the northwest, but soon gusted to 20 knots. We had tucked in one reef in the mainsail dockside, but it was obvious to me that we should have tucked in a second reef. The gusty conditions made for an exhilarating ride for the passengers. I on the other hand, was nervous throughout the sail, second-guessing every decision I made and worrying about my ability to handle the boat. It got easier over time, but that first rough ride with passengers on board was eye-opening for me.

Then I got deployment orders with the US Navy shortly after this sail and disappeared for a year while the Somers went into yard for an extended period of time. The USCG inspection had revealed rot in the hull, which necessitated substantial repairs. It’s a wooden boat, so that’s to be expected, but the USCG team was less than helpful in getting the repair plan approved. This resulted in considerable time and cost to the Museum as the Somers sat in boatyards waiting for repairs to be approved. The old girl eventually made it back to her dock at the Reedville Fishermen’s Museum, with some repairs still to complete.

When I made it back to the US in the spring of 2025, the crew held a meeting and we decided to bring the program back. We had lost several of the crew to other interests during the intervening time and those that remained needed training. The other captain and I decided to split the administrative duties: he took over liaison with the US Coast Guard, while I took on maintenance and crew training.

My theory of managing a volunteer program (as a volunteer) is pretty straight forward:

•   Consistency: set a schedule and stick to it. Ambiguity in scheduling, decision-making, or communication kills a program that relies on volunteers.

•   Comradery: if the crew meets consistently each month (in our case at least twice per month) the natural friendship of like-minded souls will take over. Pride in the vessel and in their ability to maintain and sail her, will make the ship and crew greater than the sum of her parts.

•   Competency: every task the crew accomplishes on the boat teaches them something, whether its maintenance, or sailing, or emergency drills. At the moment, I know more about traditional rigging than anyone else on the boat. But in one year, if that’s still the case, then I have failed.

I learned this when my wife and I were deckhands on the schooner Pioneer, owned and operated by the South Street Seaport Museum in NYC. Though the Pioneer has a cadre of paid crew, they relied on volunteers to sail and maintain the vessel. We became a crew because everyone knew what was expected, we took pride in their work and over time we gained increasing skill. It was not something that was taught by any one person, but rather the three precepts mentioned above were an intrinsic part of the program.

I have no idea if I’ll be good at this Captain-thing, but I’m going to give it my best shot.

Claud W. Somers under sail on the Rappahannock River (2018)