A few years ago, I cleared in at a western Caribbean island with the help of two 18-year-old female deckhands. The port captain directed us to dock on the windward side of a concrete quay, in the row where they placed all the foreign yachts. I did as I was instructed, against my better judgment. After leaving the customs dock, we stood off, prepared the deck and had a discussion to ensure the execution of what we knew was going to be a tight fit.
Our boat was a heavy, 60-foot, single-screw ketch with a long bowsprit. As we approached the narrow channel, we could barely see our slip in a long line of 30-plus yachts secured alongside. We proceeded bow-in, with an after spring line in hand and ready to throw, led from a midship chock. When the slip appeared, I took the motion off the boat.
The gal with the spring line was right on the money, since she’d been schooled on how
