Below the mast

On a street shaded by tall buildings and filled with yellow cabs honking their horns, I looked east towards the water and caught a glimpse of a four-masted barque. I could just see the rigging of the sailing ship amidst the steel and glass of the skyscrapers.

On this cold winter morning, the usual tourists who flock to the South Street Seaport weren't there. But the boats were.

I wandered the quiet pier, gazing up at the Ship Made Famous by Irving Johnson. Standing below the huge steel hull, I could imagine it rounding Cape Horn in treacherous winds.

Besides the workers who were doing some kind of construction on the nearest street, I saw only one other person, a woman sitting by herself on the pier, reading an account of a famous sailing voyage. Every few sentences, she'd stop and look up at the boat, as if to assure herself that it was still there.