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A Diary of Voyages Aboard the Gazela

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From Associated Press

Highlights of recollections by David Frantz, in charge of running the Gazela’s 1930s-vintage, four-cylinder, 11-inch bore diesel for a time in the 1970s, published in the spring 1998 edition of “Sea History”:

4 July 1976: Nineteen tall ships and countless others pass in review for President Ford, aboard USS Forrestal, there up beyond the George Washington Bridge ... New York is suddenly like a small town

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7 October 1976: We approach Bannister’s Wharf in Newport at dead slow. A full-astern bell comes down and two men lean on the reverse lever. A mild shudder, stop, we eye each other. When finished with engines ... we discover that the bowsprit has swept the wharf, clearing it of some minor structures, but thanks to Gazela’s well-stocked boson’s locker, the repair party is already at work. No hard feelings.

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13 October 1976: Arriving in Gloucester with little advance notice, we ask the harbormaster if we can have a berth. “If an old Banks fisherman can’t find a place to tie up in Gloucester, that will be the living end.” We tie up alongside the Quincy Market Cold Storage pier.

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9 June 1977: Heading south from New Bedford for New York ... I wake up in the morning sure that we are becalmed; the motion below is that of a ship in a dying sea. Poking my head out of the companionway hatch I find us storming along, a 35-knot northeast breeze on the quarter, lower topsail only, logging close to 10 knots. Beautiful.

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27 June 1978: Grant Gambell, the sailmaker, and I are furling the mizzen topsail for the night when a pod of perhaps five whales appears off the port bow on a collision course, preceded by a much greater number of dolphins. The whole parade drops under us and surfaces on the quarter, retreating into the advancing darkness.

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4 July 1978: Bill Gaynor is on the bowsprit when she takes green water over the bow. Thanks to his harness, he stays with us but with a badly sprained leg....It’s a sad sight in the fo’c’sle; Bill horizontal and the doctor losing his lunch into a No. 10 can while ministering to the injured.

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