If it's true that the simplest things in life are the sweetest, Eagle, a 1926 John Alden-designed Malabar Jr. schooner, couldn't be any sweeter. She's 30 feet long, not counting her bowsprit. Lazy jacks tame her gaff-rigged sails. She has tackle and belaying pins, and there's not a winch in sight. She carries two bunks with brand new cushions, a coal-burning stove, and an ice chest that's wedged neatly under the drop-leaf table. There's even a proper head tucked in beside the engine. She's the boat Mary Beth Teas and I sail in our dreams, and best of all, she's the one we row up to when we take the dinghy to our mooring. Between us, we've done a lot of sailing, on much larger and more lavishly equipped boats. They've carried us both handily around the world, around South America, to Tahiti and to Alaska, through the Caribbean and the Mediterranean-so many happy memories for each of us. But the cruise we crave now is a going-nowhere-in-particular sort of cruise, just poking among the bays and ledges along the coast of Maine with no calendar or schedules involved. Sweet and simple, just like Eagle. The sooner we get going, the better.