By Nate Jones

Staff Writer 

Shallow Water Sailors. Puddle Pirates. Coasties.

Call them what you want, the United States Coast Guard has one heck of sailboat. 

Last week, I was lucky enough to land a seat onboard the Eagle as she put Cape Elizabeth’s Portland Head Lighthouse to her stern and finally docked in Portland Harbor after what some of the cadets on board said was a long time “doing doughnuts” in the open ocean. 

One word describes the 295-foot, steel-hull, square-rigged barque, and the experience as a whole: Rugged.

After 20 minutes steaming south – crowded on the stern of the buoy tender, the rumbling motor shuddering my entire body – the Eagle was no longer just a boat in a photo I had seen in a movie or a magazine, but the boat in a photo I was taking. Her steel hull and the humming sound crying out from different exhaust ports as she rocked in the swell reminded me of an oil tanker, but her high rails, curved transom and elegant bow brought me back to my tall ship days; the Eagle is half-ship, half-yacht.

Onboard, Eagle’s hybrid-like features became even more apparent.

Her three masts – the mainmast is more than 150 feet from the waterline – and spars are traditionally rigged with hefty line, but instead of wood the masts and yards are steel, the lines are not hemp as they appear, but unmanila – a synthetic, anti-stretch hybrid also designed to withstand chafing. 

Her stern is home to a traditional spoke wheel, the steering gear housed in a massive wooden trunk – engraved with golden leaf. Aft of the wheel, but perched directly forward of the helm, is a giant steel pilothouse preventing the helmsman from seeing more than a few feet away. Eagle is actually steered from amidships, where three spoke wheels – inlaid with bronze, thoroughly varnished and an arms length from port to starboard – all turn on the same shaft. Forward of the wheels is the navigation station, where officers bark left or right rudder degrees, triggering a chain reaction in all five helmsmen, who turn the three wheels simultaneously per the order.

Eagle’s bow – with its upward sloping deck and massive sprit reaching out over the cutwater – could be a great spot to stand watch – if it weren’t for the machinery sprawled out across it. Massive windlasses, enormous bollards, vent stacks and heavy steel deck hardware make the spot a better spot to bruise your shins than grab a suntan.

 By the time the crew had her tied up in Portland, I’d gotten to know a lot about the kind of sailor it takes to be aboard the Eagle. Much like their ship, the crew had two distinct sides; they were all courteous and knowledgeable – even accommodating – to their passengers, but quick to speak up when anyone stood too close to the helm or on top of an anchor line that could let go. 

Respectful, but rugged.

Staff Writer Nate Jones may be reached at 282-4337 ext. 233.