The old lime carrier JENNY PILLSBURY was ghosting slowly along through the Mussel Ridge Channel before a light southeasterly wind bound for Rockland with a cargo of Boston bricks in her hold. As so often happens in these waters the southeast breeze was accompanied by an unwelcome traveler, fog. It wasn't long before the islands on either hand disappeared into the misty gloom. First Graffam and Hewitts off to starboard and then Spruce Head off to port. Somewhere ahead lay Ash Island and its off-lying ledges, a point that had to be weathered.

The skipper called for the mate and told him to send the boy aft. When the boy reported to the wheel, the skipper asked if he had ever played baseball.

"Yes sir, centerfield."

"Good boy, good," said the skipper, "now this is what I want you to do - go below and ask Cook for a peck of potatoes and then come back here."

The boy soon returned with a basked full of potatoes. "Son," said the skipper, "I want you take this basket into the bow and I want you to fire a potato out in front of this schooner as far as you can every minute and listen for the splash - and now, this is the important part, the first time that you don't hear a splash you face aft and cry out as loud as you can, 'Cap'n, put the helm down!' "

- Capt. Art Krause
Spruce Head Island[\i]