BY: Alan Behr
A clear sky stretched over Boston Harbor like a taut, blue canvas, the sea air warming under the midday sun. The water was a smooth highway through which our water taxi skimmed toward moored sailboats. A white schooner sailed in fine trim off our port bow. "That's what I want next," said George Morton as he pointed out the schooner.
Gray-haired and convivial, Captain George, as he prefers to be known, had picked me up from the dock at the end of the No. 66 bus - a free shuttle from Logan Airport - and was taking me to my hotel, the Battery Wharf, a concierge for which had suggested this very agreeable way to arrive. "In a few more years, I hope to have the money," said Captain George, pointing to more sailboats moored in the harbor.