Something that happened on Memorial Day in the late 1970s has remained a mystery to me all these years. I know how it all ended happily, but where it began or who participated, I still do not know.
    Possibly you or someone in your family, from your vantage point on Curtis Point, will recall some of what transpired at about 8 a.m. on that Sunday of Memorial Day in the late 1970s.
    It all began when a good sized sail boat (about 20 to 26-feet long) came barreling out of the mouth of the Little River. It was pushed very fast by the offshore wind. We were staying at my brother Don’s house at the corner of King’s Highway and Hayward Lane. It must have been between the year 1976 and 1981, as Lee and I were sleeping in my father’s front bedroom. (My father died in 1976 and my brother sold the house in 1981). This room gave us a panoramic view of the Little River, Timber Island, the Atlantic Ocean and beyond.
    Lee got up by habit at just about 8 a.m. and opened the curtain to get a view of the water. Suddenly she exclaimed to me, “Ken! You must get up and see this boat!”
    By the time I was fully awake the boat was out beyond Timber Island and going very fast. Just as I got focused on the boat, the helsman tried to turn south toward Cape Porpoise and the boat suddenly capsized and disappeared from sight.
    I immediately dialed 911 on the bedside phone. When I explained what happened, the woman who answered told me she had nothing to do with what happened on the water. She further suggested I call the Coast Guard in Portland, who were about 17 sea miles away.
    Fortunately I thought of Mary Larkin who lived nearby. She said that she would phone the local sea rescue group. A few minutes later Mary called me back as nobody else had called and their lookout man had searched the area and could spot nothing with his binoculars. I told Mary that I had seen the capsizing with my own eyes and I would pay the cost of the trip if they found nobody out there. I knew that Mary Larkin was one who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and within five minutes a pontoon boat with two outboard motors appeared on the beach and was soon launched with a full crew.
    I was able to watch their progress as they went directly to where the capsize occurred and within minutes they started coming back, but I was unable to see who was aboard. They soon landed and began carrying three blanket wrapped people up on the beach. I could tell that they were all alive as they were moving their arms back and forth to keep warm. With the group there was a young Airdale dog, who was also wrapped in a blanket.
    By this time Lee and I were both dressed and ready to see what was going on at the beach. We watched from  a distance as an ambulance crew took the people away, and also the dog. The pontoon boat crew gathered their equipment and departed before we even had a chance to talk with them.
    All that time I did not know what to say to them. I could not just blurt out that I had saved their lives, nor could I say that I just happened to see them capsize. Even today I would be embarrassed to meet them, but I would like to know who they are just satisfy my curiosity.
    If we had stayed at the beach a few days longer I probably would have found out all the details. However, my sister-in-law was with us and she had to be at work on Tuesday. I did meet Mary Larkin the next year, but I forgot to ask her about it. She died a few years later.
    In the meanwhile, my friend, Annette Scribner is checking with the town office of Kennebunkport to see if she can find the old records of the sea rescue. If you have any information about this please contact her 967-4559.

Ken Ireland
Richmond, Va.