Nor could you pick a smarter-looking ship: The 125-foot Spirit of Massachusetts, out of Boston, a sleek replica of the schooners that traded along the New England coast at the turn of the century.
You could pick a better crew: A handful of TV and newspaper people, plus an early-bird tourist or two, who were expected to turn to and help get the ship under way.
We had a lot to learn.
It turns out that the first thing every sailor must learn is not port and starboard, not sheets and halyards, not even how to work the toilet or where to go if he has to throw up, but staying Out Of The Way.
This is not as easy as it sounds. On dry land, Out Of The Way and In The Way tend to be fixed points, such as a busy kitchen doorway (In The Way) or local-access cable TV (Out Of The Way).
Aboard the Spirit, though, it's different.
Getting a sailing ship from Point A to Point B is a matter of great fuss and hullabaloo, the crew scurrying from stem to stern and rail to rail, hauling and reefing and slacking and backing all at once, a chaos of running feet, flailing hands and shouted orders. In The Way and Out Of The Way change places with every shift in the wind.
Right now, where you are standing is perfectly Out Of The Way; five minutes from now, someone -- probably the same guy who told you to stand there five minutes ago -- will walk up and tell you that we're getting ready to back off that headsail, and you are now In The Way.
There is one rule of thumb you can use to determine where In The Way is: When the deck suddenly cants from 30 degrees starboard to 30 degrees port, and you lurch over to where you can grab the rigging and keep your feet, that is In The Way.
Other spots that are always In The Way are:
-- Anywhere it's dry.
-- Anywhere out of the wind.
-- Anywhere there's something to sit on.
-- Anywhere away from the generator's diesel exhaust.
There is no corresponding rule for finding Out Of The Way; Out Of The Way is wherever the skipper says it is. And you'd best listen to him, because finding Out Of The Way on your own can be risky. You may station yourself safely Out Of The Way amidships, only to find out on the next tack that the reason that spot is Out Of The Way is because the mainsail boom harvests anyone standing there as it scythes across the deck. This is not something you want to try unless you like to catch telephone poles with your teeth.
Once you have In The Way and Out Of The Way down, though, the rest is easy. Of course, you have to learn the terms for each of the lines and what you do with them, so you and your crewmates can mesh like the gears in a fine Swiss watch when the order to make sail is given.
In my brief stint before the mast, I had very little trouble learning what to do when the mate cried out "Haul away, mains'l" or "slack off the throat halyard!" although knowing what to do and actually doing it are two different things. One does not develop biceps of steel by pecking away at a computer terminal all day long.
Finally; though, after the mainsail was set and I had flopped gasping to the deck like a gaffed tuna, the skipper shouted an order which was not immediately familiar.
"Back up, bockhead!' he bellowed.
Dutifully, I struggled to my feet. Aye-aye, Cap'n, I said, back up the blockhead. I wonder which line that is?
"You!" he shouted, just as the boom whistled past my left ear, within an eyelash's breadth of turning me into another Van Gogh.
"Back up, blockhead, you're In The Way!"