Tall Ships Barbie

Tall Ships Barbie

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking. 
John Masefield

The summer I was 9 my father earned his bosun's license.  In celebration, he took my younger brother and me for a sail around Halifax harbour in a sturdy whaler.  A submarine was coming into Halifax harbour just on the other side of George's Island.  We called excitedly to go see the submarine.  Dad was excited too, I guess, because he threw the tiller the wrong way.  The boat rolled over and lay in the water with the keel pointing at the sky.  We  clambered on the hull and she rolled upright.  We jumped in but couldn't bail fast enough.  The boat rolled once more and we were again clinging to the hull bottom.  Poor Dad was frantic and clutched us by the collar handles of our life jackets but my brother and I were not worried.  The whaler wallowed upside down in the harbour until a tug arrived to rescue us. 

My fearless sibling called as a man reached to gaff one of our lines, "Quick, take a photo so we can be in the newspaper."

 Dad never took us sailing again but, should the opportunity arise,  Barbie is suitably dressed for a day on a yacht.