For most people my age, owning a sailboat is not a big priority. Typically when I bring my sloop to a regatta I am a bit of a “duck out of water” as the youngest skipper by about 20 years. I’ve learned to sit slightly beyond certain conversations; eventually the older crowd will forget my presence, along with any reservations they have about sharing embarrassing sea stories. I’ve learned a lot about sailing and seamanship using my “fly on the wall” technique, but always jump at the chance to meet anyone under the age of 30 who comes rambling down the dock. 

In 2005, I met Shane “Shaggy” Ferrante, who was crewing on another boat at the regatta. I could tell by his flip-flops, worn shorts, scraggly hair and an unshaven look that he was a sailor, so I cornered him on the dock and invited him aboard my sloop.

Shaggy told me he spent his summers aboard a similar sloop skippering sailing tours – not very different from my own summertime exploits. He said he had actually considered buying my sloop when she was still on the market.

“I wouldn’t have had the time to fix her up right,” he said. “You’ve done a great job.”

I was glad to have finally found another person my age for whom owning a boat was a priority. He understood what I meant about “getting itchy” for the sailing season in February, admired the work I had put into my sloop, and – a typical and competitive young skipper – made a few suggestions to improve her performance in the races.

Shaggy was a familiar face at this year’s regatta. He played a large role aboard the winning sloop – a beautiful topsail rig that returned to the regatta after several years under repair – and I was glad to once again have him aboard to compare notes and share our seafaring adventures after the races. He was a bit of a showoff – he used a bilge pump for a squirt gun and climbed the rigging during a calm – and always had suggestions for how to improve my boat, but I admired the depth of his knowledge about sailing and his apparent ability to bring boats across the finish line in a timely manner.

Besides, I was no longer a fly on the wall.

Two weeks ago my father called saying he heard reports that a young charter boat captain had drowned in Boothbay Harbor. Ironically, like most sailors – including myself – Shaggy was not a strong swimmer and drowned after falling off a dock and into the water in the early morning hours of July 30. The accident was caught on tape, and apparently a friend came by the dock looking for Shaggy not more than 20 minutes after his fall.

To me, he was a seasonal acquaintance, a fellow captain, a business associate and one member of a very rare species of young skippers left in this often wet and cold part of the country. I think more than one skipper fell off that dock, as I’m sure the energy with which he sailed and his willingness to share his knowledge could have inspired many other young sailors others to take the helm, something both he and I valued more than buying a new car, paying student loans or a high paying job.

– Nate Jones