Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
cruise, and my good mood spread to my young crew. A lovely lunch was made by Paula
and Herman, who had both turned out to be great boat cooks. One point should be clearly
made right here: cooking under way is no picnic. “One hand for the ship and one for the
cook” is a very old and apt saying. When the wind picks up, and the action is noisy, viol-
ent, and even dangerous, it can be one of the most physically challenging chores on-board
a little boat.
That day, boiled potatoes and cabbage with canned pork sausages and mustard never tasted
better, and when I brought out my guitar, spirits were high as I played folk songs while
Herman and Paula provided the vocals. It was days like that that made the memory of sail-
ing worth every second. It was a living adventure, and I noticed the shine in pretty Paula's
eye and wondered who it was for. Herman was a good-looking, young man, and I suspected
the glint in her eye was for him, but there was a small chance I could be wrong. I hoped so,
as I had fallen for this Moorish beauty.
We all had our sea legs now and could scramble about the boat with ease. Sleeping or being
down in the cabin below was no longer a challenge, and we were getting used to each oth-
ers' ways. It was understood that smoking was done outside; everyone took turns cooking
dinners and cleaning up afterward. Personal items and boat gear had to be secured away at
all times. The boat's movements were unpredictable, and things could be thrown about the
cabin and broken, or they could hurt someone. It was amazing how quickly a boat could
become untidy and cluttered up.
Keeping watch at all hours was imperative, and we all stood equal shifts; three hours on
and six off, which was ample time to sleep. It was the custom that whoever came off watch
would make a cup of tea or coffee for the next watch. The later the watch, the worse it be-
came: it could get cold in the early hours of the morning during the graveyard shift. There
were the times when it was wonderful being out in the cockpit alone. The other two were
asleep, and all was quiet, save for the gurgling of the wake as it slipped musically by. I
loved the sounds of the sails working, towing the boat ever onwards, with a slip, or a slap,
or what sounded like a sigh. A book could be read by a paraffin lamp. The best times were
when it was warm and sultry out at sea with a moon full and by. There were times when it
was wild outside, and it was very exciting sailing with waves crashing about, and I found
the boat's motion violent but not threatening, rather, just lively.
The sleeping quarters for the crew were comfortable and dry provided the ports were kept
closed at all times. This was a golden rule aboard any boat, as one little wave slapping
against the hull would send a shower of salt water below onto a dry bunk, and the bedding
would be wet and salty for days. Paula and I slept in the double bunk up forward, and the
lad had his bunk in the main saloon, where the table folded down to become a bed with an
attachable lee cloth to prevent one being rolled out on starboard tacks.
