MAYVILLE – Sunday didn’t turn out at all like I’d planned. When my husband, Jeff, and I got up, the story above the fold on the front page of The Post-Journal reported the Chautauqua Belle had run aground when an unexpected gust of wind came up during Saturday night’s rainstorm.

“I’m going to go check it out,” Jeff said as he grabbed his boat keys and headed toward the door.

“Well, stay out of everybody’s way,” I said. “And wear a life jacket. It’s still rough out there.” I knew I was nagging, but I was worried, and didn’t understand why Jeff was so compelled to get out on the water.

I poured a cup of coffee and read the article. The Belle, finished with its usual route during the season, had been hosting a wedding party. After it ran aground off of Prendergast Point in the upper basin, the guests had been ferried to shore by the Chautauqua County Sheriff’s Department and several local fire companies.

I was worried about Jeff, and worried about the Belle. The Chautauqua Belle is a replica of an old paddlewheel steamship, and has been a fixture on Chautauqua Lake since it was built in 1976 for the U.S. Bicentennial. It runs between Mayville and Chautauqua Institution during the summer season, and hosts a concert series and private parties, too. All of us on the lake look forward to the sound it makes as it chuffs down the lake, and when it blows its whistle.

By the time I heard from Jeff, I’d finished the crossword puzzle, showered, walked the dog and was really getting worried. He sent a text message: “Just towed the Belle off the sand bar.”

I called him immediately, and he picked up.

“I can’t talk,” he said. “I’m towing a big-ass boat down the lake.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Mayville. We’re going to try to get her docked.”

“Oh, my God, oh my God, I’ll be there,” I said.

I jumped in the car and headed toward Mayville on Route 430, thinking about Jeff and our boat. A 1963 Larson with a 75 HP Mercury outboard motor, the boat had been his dad’s. Technically it is an antique, but it’s a fiberglass boat, not one of those beautiful old wooden ones. We’ve repaired it so many times I tease Jeff that the only original thing on it is the glove compartment. One summer it was under repair the entire season because the “stringers” needed to be replaced. I learned then what stringers are: the wooden structure that forms the hull of the boat. In short, we replaced the boat. But after brief starter problems early in the season, the boat has run well this year.

When I crested the rise near the golf course, I looked over at the lake through the break in the trees, and saw it: our boat in the lead, connected to a pontoon boat that was connected to the Chautauqua Belle.

When I got to Mayville, Jeff and the pontoon had unhooked from the Belle, and the Belle was under steam, heading for the dock. I called Jeff on his cellphone and we waved to each other, me on the shore and he on the water.

“Want to get some breakfast?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But I’m out of gas. I’m going to the marina.”

“I’ll pick you up,” I said.

I drove over to where they were docking the Belle. A crew was on board and several people were milling about on the shore, including Del and Donna Stage, who were wearing fluorescent green jackets. Their grandson, Mat, owns the Belle, but running and repairing it is a family effort. As soon as the gangway was set, I climbed on.

Conversations swirled. Del was telling someone that it was Jeff Hunter in the tow boat, and when he saw me, he introduced me to Duane, the boat’s captain. The mood was mixed. Of course everyone was happy to get the boat back on its moorings, but Duane was devastated about getting stuck in the first place.

“I didn’t sleep all night,” he said. “The wind whipped around, and when it’s that strong, all you can do is back into it. The lake’s low, so we hit a sand bar. The sheriff and the fire crews did a great job of getting the guests off the ship. Everyone was pretty cool about it, except one woman who screamed at me. They were late, but everyone made it to their dinner.”

I saw Jeff out of the corner of my eye. He couldn’t find a place to tie up where we were, so he started backing out.

“Jeff’s out of gas, and I’m not sure if he had money on him when he left the house,” I said.

Duane said he had offered him money. “We’ll buy his gas.”

I waved him off and drove to the marina where Jeff was still gassing up. As soon as he was done, he tied the boat up and got in the car. He was beaming.

Over breakfast, Jeff told the rest of the diners and me about his adventure. When he got there, a pontoon boat was hooked to the big ship, but couldn’t get enough purchase to move her. When Jeff offered, he got the go ahead to tie up to the pontoon. Together, after several tries, they were able to loosen the ship and head down the lake. The rudder on the Belle was broken, so Jeff had the only boat that could steer.

“I just tried to keep in the center of the lake,” Jeff said. “It was hard, because the wind kept trying to blow us all shoreward.”

He showed me a picture on his phone that he’d taken from the boat. Sure enough, he was towing the pontoon and they were both towing the Belle. In his dad’s 1963 Larson.

Still grinning, Jeff paid our bill.

“I’ll see you at home,” I said. He walked across the street to the marina and I drove off.

I drove straight to our dock, deciding that I’d take a picture of Jeff when he pulled into the lift. I waited. And waited. I talked with a friend about the day’s events for a few minutes and waited some more, expecting to see the boat round the bend into Maple Springs any minute. No boat. No Jeff. I was getting worried again when I got a text: “JUST PICKED UP A KAYAKER WHO SWAMPED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE LAKE. BE HOME SOON.” And another text, a picture of a bearded kayaker giving the camera a big thumbs up. The kayak is in the background, propped up in the stern of the Larson.

Jeff did finally make it home. We laughed about his day: Wake up, rescue the Chautauqua Belle, eat breakfast, rescue a kayaker.

“My work here is done,” Jeff said. He was still grinning when he settled in for a well-deserved nap.

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Beth Peyton is the author of “Clear Skies, Deep Water: A Chautauqua Memoir.” Jeff Hunter owns and operates Whiteside Home Inspection. They live in Maple Springs.