It was inevitable that the day would come when I would be called upon to captain the Annabel Lee without Melanie's assistance. I figured it would be well into the future, after I had become the proverbial "Old Man and the Sea," equipped with a peg-leg and a ragged gray beard. But when my family decided to visit Fort Lauderdale a few weeks ago, I was suddenly charged with a responsibility that I could not have foreseen.

My sister, Morgan, and my brother-in-law, Robert, had brought my mom into town the weekend before their wedding. The original plan was for the five of us to go sailing offshore, but as things were put into focus, it became apparent that Melanie's work schedule was not going to cooperate.

"You can handle it," Melanie said to me in a reassuring tone, and after a bit of cajoling, she had not only convinced me, but my family too.

So on a Saturday morning, we took off from Harbour Towne Marina in Dania, after stepping the mast in record time (4 people, what a luxury!). Motoring up the ICW was a piece of cake, and our first destination was Bahia Cabana, where we were to meet Melanie for lunch. It was a relatively smooth ride and I felt confident about our afternoon sail. My crew, who collectively had more sea time than I, began to show signs of respect for their captain-of-the-day.

After a cheeseburger and fries, we said good-bye to Melanie and climbed aboard Annabel Lee for our journey offshore. I started rehearsing the scenario over and over in my mind. Melanie had reminded me to put the main sail up as we began to enter the Port Everglades Inlet, and I could feel my heartbeat go into overdrive as we cleared the 17th Street Causeway Bridge.

I yelled out,"OK. We're going to put the main up after we turn into the inlet."

"Oh, Will, let's wait until we get out. There are too many boats in here!" my mom retorted.

I knew better, but I complied. My mom had been a sailboat gal once upon a time, but she had never been through Port Everglades Inlet. She was right about the boats, but she didn't realize what we were about to face. Our 19 footer began to be walloped by the huge wakes expelled by the countless powerboats that were flying by us, and having the main up would have offered some stabalization.

We held on and I made the decision to turn south, thinking it would be less congested. Once we were clear of the inlet, I told Robert to man the tiller, and I climbed up to the mast to raise the main. We were getting all of the "2ft or less seas" NOAA had forecasted that day, and I was struggling to hold on. I had not fastened the halyard during our prelaunch routine, and now I was fighting the latch on the shackle. Finally I got it, but as I started to raise the main, something happened and the sail was no longer moving. I looked up and to my horror, the halyard was 3/4 of the way up the mast. I had not latched the shackle completely and now my halyard was swinging freely and out of my reach. Defeated, I called down to my crew.

"Let's take her back in. We won't be sailing today."

Thankfully my father had not come down early for the wedding with my mom, so I was spared the ridicule I would have received while the halyard coiled and uncoiled itself around the stays. Besides, I was already taking it pretty hard since I had made such a rookie mistake.
Later that evening, Melanie and I did a post-mortem, and I began to feel a little better about myself. As all people should do in situations like this, I learned a few lessons.

First of all, I should have probably fastened the halyard before we left Harbour Towne. That would have ensured a calm surrounding with less distractions. Secondly, I should have listened to myself and put the main up in the inlet. Being in charge of the boat means everyone should listen to you. And finally, I should have made sure the shackle was fastened all the way down before I raised the main.

Lessons learned.