ABOARD THE MERCANTILE – You could see it coming.

The calm across East Penobscot Bay was being overtaken. The sheet-of-glass sea, on the backside of Islesboro, was slowly churned up by a slight Northwesterly breeze.

The line where the calm met the wind was obvious and approaching. From aboard the schooner Mercantile, you could see wind on its way, and it was right on time.

“Everything’s different now,” declared Captain J.R. Braugh. “Folks, change is coming. Now you’ll see why we’re where we are. Now we’ll capitalize on it.”

It was the 28th Annual Great Schooner Race, and the Mercantile was about to make its move.

After lagging behind the other vessels in the Coaster Class, Braugh had been counting on a Northwest wind to sweep across the bay. The morning forecast called for light and variable winds. Braugh looked at the cloud cover, the front approaching and expected the incoming high tide in the afternoon to bring the breeze.

“Northwest baby, you watch,” said the young California native, among the new generation of captains in Maine’s schooner fleet. “If it comes from the Northwest, we’re going to feel it first.”

His crew sounded the rallying cry. Ben Loveless, raised in Carolina, bellowed through a conch shell. Ian Bystrom, a Georgia native, blew through a fog horn. Braugh joined in with a few blasts of the air horn.

If the other members of the Coaster Class weren’t aware the wind was on its way, the blast of sound from the Mercantile gave them notice. The race was about to change.

Sailing on

Schooners weren’t built for racing. When these vessels were built in the late 1800s, their purpose was moving cargo. The only racing was against the weather and against time. The faster they sailed, the sooner cargo was delivered and another trip, and payoff, began.

Captain Kip Files says not a whole lot has changed in the schooner industry over a century later. Technology has had its impact, but for the most part, the schooners purpose has remained constant.

when Ulysses S. Grant was president,” said the captain and co-owner of the Victory Chimes. “They were built for one reason to generate income under sail for her owner, who was the captain. 100 years later, they’re still doing the same thing. Find another industry that does this. They use the same technology over a 100 years later. It’s really unique.”

Maine’s working schooners cruise the coast of Maine during the summer. Most of their passengers are from away – more familiar with a Barnes & Noble than a Charlie Noble (the stovepipe that comes up from the galley).

The Mercantile, launched in Deer Isle in 1916, and the Grace Bailey, built in 1882 on Long Island, were two of the originals in the passenger trade.

In the 1940’s, Captain Frank Swift purchased a small fleet of vessels as part of his growing business, sailing passengers instead of cargo along the coast. The Grace Bailey and Mercantile still serve that purpose and are owned by Captain Ray Williamson, who also owns the smaller schooner Mistress as part of his Camden fleet.

“These are actual cargo schooners,” said Braugh, noting that racing amidst the Coaster Class may be as authentic as it gets. “They’re not replicas. They’re the original sail plans and the original geometry, and they don’t have inboard engines. You have to haul your yawl boat up to the stern davits, and you go for it. That kind of keeps the authenticity.”

There’s also that lure of the sea that has always beckoned sailors. It’s you against Mother Nature. It’s a battle sailors have yearned to wage for centuries. That desire to outwit the weather still blows like a 20 knot wind.

“That challenge is always there,” said Braugh. “No matter how good a sailor you are or how much experience there is, it’s always ready to challenge you. It will humble you no matter how good you are.”

In the 1970’s the Great Schooner Race put a new twist on that man vs. nature contest. The vessels raced from North Haven across West Penobscot Bay to Rockland, where the Rockland Breakwater would serve as the finish line. It was a popular event, even having its own radio coverage. It became part of Schooner Days in Rockland, but it became a formatted event with concerts on the mainland, parades of sail and other festivities that locked the schooner fleet into someone else’s schedule.

“It wasn’t working for us,” said Files, who spends his off-season living in Kingfield. “People were scheduling what we were trying to do. We had to be here and we had to be there with a sailboat race. It just seemed to work better for us this way.”

Now the schooner fleet manages race week. The second week of July, they sail out, find a harbor to raft up overnight. The following day, they check the wind, pick a course and race for a day before all going separate ways along the coast.

There are a variety of classes, based on the style of vessel – the Coaster, Leeward, Windward and Flying Jib. It is a sporting event where the only drug enhancement comes from Dramamine.

It’s not a true race, though, especially since all the vessels are built differently. It’s a race done for fun and to showcase the schooners, but there’s still some pride and bragging rights involved.

The winning schooner gets a trophy and holds it for a year. One season, the Grace Bailey won the Coaster Class, but the losing skipper, with the trophy on board, sailed off before giving up the hardware.

“A lot of the guys are very competitive about it,” said Files, whose vessel adorns the Maine State Quarter and now has the motto “Tails Never Fails”. “I would be too if I could keep up with them, but I can’t. (Victory Chimes) was never designed for that.”

Out of the fog

The Lewis R. French was the first to venture into the fog from Camden Harbor, drawing taunts from crews of other vessels. “Loser’s have to start now.”

The Mercantile, with nearly two dozen passengers aboard, made its way out into the bay by noon. The fog had lifted slightly, providing some visibility. Other ships followed from Camden, Rockport and Rockland. They all sailed Northeast toward Castine and snuggled into a spacious but protected cove, marked by Nautilus Rock.

All the schooners lined up together for a giant raft-up, a schooner gam. By the time all the vessels had arrived, 16 vessels were in line. After dinner, passengers boarded the various vessels, working through a maze of ropes, gunwales and fellow passengers. The schooner only do such gams twice a year.

“Where else are you going to see this?” said Files. “You can’t go to Disney Land to see this. You’ll only see it in Maine. “

Race Day

The morning brought heavy fog again but the forecast called for clearing. At 9 a.m., the captains gathered on the Mary Day for race details.

“Last season was the first time I was in the race as a captain, “said Braugh, who has been a captain for three years and been on the windjammers for 10, starting in the galley. “I got to go on the Mary Day. After sailing around for so many years on these boats, I had always heard about the Race Committee Meeting on the Mary Day, and last year, I got to go over there. I was thinking, This is outrageous. I can’t believe it.’ I got to go to a Race Committee Meeting, but now I get to go again.”

Tuesday’s planned course was a sail toward Turtle Head, off Islesboro, and down the bay toward Camden. They would then head toward the island of North Haven, where the finish line would be between Egg Rock and the island. The start was to be from your anchorage, giving the Mercantile an immediate edge. It had anchored closest to the mouth of the cove when the gam broke up the night before.

“We’re in the lead,” said Bystrom, sporting a Johnny Damon look that he claims he had first. “Hey Ben, we’re winning.”

That plan would change. No wind forced a start outside the cove. Another delay followed. They’d head for Cape Rosier and hope to get wind there and start a different course.

The crew tried to keep spirits high. When one vessel passed by with its own chant, Loveless yelled out “It’s the MerCANtile, not the MerCANTile!”

That excitement was hard to maintain, despite the site of the entire schooner fleet on the move. While the skies cleared and the sun strengthened, the wind was marginal. All the morning delivered was a yawl boat race to Cape Rosier. It was there that the Victory Chimes continued on toward the Eggemoggin Reach, rather than wait for a race that might not happen. Other vessels opted out also.

Much of the Coaster Class was still in tact though. When all reached the head of Cape Rosier, there was a slight breeze and hope something would materialize.

After lunch, they’d see what the afternoon would bring, but before the Mercantile’s galley of Catherine Duncan, from Illinois, and Marcel Stueben, a native of Switzerland, could get lunch on deck, the yawl boat was hauled up. The race was on.

The bigger boats with the larger sail areas had the advantage in light air, and the Mercantile fell behind.

“Today is a lot of sail day, and that’s not us,” said Loveless.

Still, Braugh was sure the Northwesterly wind would come. He was staking the Mercantile’s chances on that hunch.

“It ain’t over yet buddy,” he told Bystrom. “It ain’t over yet.”

At just about high tide, Braugh’s prediction came to pass. The wind filled in, and the Mercantile was the first to benefit. The vessel picked up its pace and gained ground. While others lagged in the calm behind Resolution Island, the Mercantile quickly closed the gap.

“The schooner Mercantile is in first place in the Coaster Class,” announced Braugh, prompting a few cheers and a few toots from Loveless on the conch shell and Bystrom on the fog horn.

The destination was now to round Compass Island and the Mercantile had the advantage and the wind. Two vessels were dead in the water behind Resolution Island. The Grace Bailey, Stephen Taber and Lewis R. French were getting wind but had lost the advantage and would have to tack back across in order to round the Island.

Then came a change in the race course, something that often happens, especially when one of the race committee’s boats is losing. Instead of rounding Compass Island, the vessels would approach the island and turn, heading for a finish line back up the bay between Fiddle Head and Two Bush Island.

The Mercantile had lost some of its advantage but the other three Coaster Class boats appeared to struggle close to Little Spruce Head Island. Braugh chose the outside route again.

“They think they can fetch Little Spruce Head,” he said. “Do we want to go up in there or do we want to stay out here? I think the breeze is going to be better out here. If they go inside, they’re going to be in the lee of the island.”

“We can’t think like they do,” said Loveless.

The Bailey and French finally made progress but still had to work around a series of islands. Braugh was following some of the Leeward Class boats that had sailed toward Islesboro, hoping to catch a small patch of wind that could push them toward the finish line. Loveless and Bystrom worked feverishly on every maneuver to help generate speed.

“If that fills into our path then we’ll have it,” said Braugh. “That calm is going away. That’s what I want. I want it to come Northwest right now.”

There was a sense that a burst of wind was about to rise again and the Mercantile was in position for a lengthy run toward the finish on one tack.

“I think we’ve got it on this tack,” said Braugh. “The only question is are the other guys up there already?”

The Bailey and French had picked up speed on the other side of the bay. It was assumed they’d have tacking to do to get to the line, but before the Mercantile could muster any speed, the Bailey had finished, beating the Lewis French by a half mile. It was the Bailey’s third straight win.

“We’re smoked,” said Braugh, obviously disheartened with the loss after coming so close.

The race over, the Mercantile did an about and headed for Bracketts Channel at Islesboro for safe anchorage behind Job Island.

“We definitely stirred up the pot a little bit,” said Braugh. “We tried hard out here.

“We definitely had the spirit,” said Loveless.

It was as disappointing a finish as the sudden comeback was exhilarating. Late into the night, Braugh and the crew still mulled over the race, the course change and the variable winds. Still, the glowing sunset off the Camden Hills and a quiet evening, as Braugh serenaded with his guitar, wasn’t a bad reward.

“It turned out to be really fun,” he said. “In the middle of the day, I wasn’t sure if it was going to be any fun. Once the breeze came up and everyone started to move, it was exciting.”