She was weathered, in need of more than cosmetic repair, a 18-foot sloop that we Abilene Sea Scouts received as a gift from her owner. Year 1945.
We sanded, repaired, painted the old lady. While she was upside down the owner, a builder, came and inspected her bottom. With his finger he compressed our smooth white lead filling between the bottom wood. We found out why when we launched the ‘Phantom Lady.’
For the launching ceremony we dressed in our whites, invited our high school sweethearts. We planned to take them sailing as soon as we slid the ‘Lady’ into the lake.
Before we could get our sails aboard, the old Seagull–her class identity–started leaking. We watched her cockpit fill as she sank into the mud. We learned old wood needed to swell a week before we got a water-free cockpit.
But the word had spread among the high school coeds. Never found one who wanted to go moonlight sailing “in ankle-deep water?”
Skip ahead eight years. I graduated from The University at Austin, returned to Abilene . After I left my reporting job at the newspaper, I went to work as an oilfield supplier. In a junk yard, I found the ribs of what remained of the ‘Phantom Lady.’
Between oilfield sales, I covered her bottom with plywood. Bought fiberglass curtains and a new liquid called ‘Boat Armor’ (now we would use epoxy) to cover the plywood. I bought an aluminum mast and boom. Bought sails made of new cloth called ‘dacron.’
Painted her bottom Longhorn burnt orange, topsides white. Then challenged Price Campbell, the richest Texas Aggie in town. We raced on the lake where Price kept his old ship-shape, wooden Seagull that he had built and painted in Texas A&M maroon color.
Phantom Lady, my rejuvenated burnt orange sloop prevailed. As Queen Victoria was told at the end of the last century race that began the America’s Cup:
“Your Majesty, there is no second.”
