...for entertainment. I still use the VHF for our weather and tide info, but I can’t recall the last time I talked to another boat on it.

It was well after dark. The station numbers flashed over and over. Granted, this is October but VHF traffic has really slowed down with the advent of cell phones.

The scan finally picked up a lone captain off Penobscot Bay with an accent I couldn’t place(his English was perfect). He was calling for a pilot. On VHF, we could tell by his faint signal, he was still outside Penobscot Bay. Other noises in the broadcast seemed to confirm the sea around him. It was quite nice to hear in the pitch black darkness around us. A lot of this detail is lost in a cell phone call, never mind a text message.

Soon after, a quiet female voice caught the scanner. The woman conversed, in a near whisper, with a male. Their signal was so crystal clear, we knew they had to be nearby.

Then we figured it out. They were roaming the obvious maze of passageways and ladders on the huge 100’+, multi storied motoryacht that had anchored about a third of a mile from us just before dark. It was a communication(hand held VHFs) between crew who were taking care of the domestic business onboard. Their near whispers told us owners and or guests, were never far away. They had a sort of code from their obvious familiarity with each other.

This was a real life version of Upstairs, Downstairs, coming through the VHF. The two may have been the Captain and crew. But at this point(anchor down), they were the butler and staff behind the scenes.

She moved like a ghost through the passageways giving whispered reports, linens, etc, at various somewhat hidden spots. They knew the boat very well. This was good theatre.

At some point, he conveyed a request had come, from “Upstairs”, and she traveled for a few minutes before arriving at what we suspect was the Gym.

Then in a dead pan whisper she said through the hand held, “Mr. …… ‘s treadmill is broken”. You could hear a pin drop during the long pause. The butler made -no- reply…

That was all we heard. It was a cliff hanger. Did they fix the treadmill? Or did the treadmill and Mr. …. disappear that night?

I threw another log on the fire and we went back to our books as the little radio hunted for signals. It never found another that night.