It doesn't look 40-feet deep!

Being anchored at the mouth of the Cohansey was not where I wanted to spend the time waiting out bad weather, so I decided to move the boat up the river to the town of Greenwich, which according to the book is a quaint little historic village. I was expecting something like Essex. Ha! 
     There were two broken down marinas, the current was amazing. I dropped the hook where recommended but it seemed I had to let out a lot of scope. It didn't feel right so I picked up and moved to the other side of the river. It was even deeper! What the heck-- this is a river that's not 50 yds wide, how deep could it be? 
     To make sure the hook was set I backed down.  I looked at the dinghy painter and said to myself I should pull that in. Nah. Two seconds later ...clunk and the engine stopped. Oh no! I looked back and there was the bow of the dinghy looking like it was trying to swim under the boat. Luckily the anchor was holding and there was only one other boat to witness this. I dove over with one of the great knives that Sue bought (Thank you!!!) and cut the line from the shaft. I needed a bath anyway.  
     When I went into the marina and bought diesel from the owner he mentioned bad weather was coming and would I like dock space? I declined.  Then he said "you know you're anchored in 40' of water and you're gonna need alot of scope if it blows the way they say it's gonna. It's a buck a foot, not much."  I said I'd let him know.
     I rowed out to the boat and barely made it with the current. So between that and the storm I thought two nights at 26.00 per night wasn't too bad to save another river disaster. Just for fun I measured the depth to see if was pulling my leg. He wasn't. It was 40' deep. And that's right next to the bank!  Being tied to that dock was a wonderful thing!