My watch is Mid-ships. I’m on watch from 4-8s. We motor out from Greenport and start watch rotations a couple of hours into my watch. We are trying to outrun a storm to get out and around Long Island so we are motoring along at around 5 knots or so. The captain wants to sail, the crew wants to sail and the boat wants to sail, but the wind is not with us just yet. Captain Bjorn tells us that we will probably set sail maybe around 11 or so. The wind is kicking up and it’s starting to rain. Foul weather gear is on in short order.
We’ve all learned just a little bit about being lookout in the bow of the ship and taking the helm to steer it. Before we know it, our first watch is over, we are called to opp stående and muster with the next watch, which is Starboard. Bjorn tells us that if the weather isn’t too bad, he will call an all hands at some point in the middle of the night and we will set the sail. He gently suggests that Mid-ships try to get some sleep in the meantime. (I really wish I had a recording of him saying that. Some nights I think the only reason I was able to sleep was his voice telling me that I should).
We stow our foul weather gear in our box and realize that everything in there will now be wet for a while. The new folks are too excited right now to sleep, of course. We are on the North side of Long Island and the sea is calm and smooth in spite of the growing clouds. The sun sets and I feel cheated a little by the cloud cover which makes the sunset more of a fading of grey into black. Eventually, most of my watch has gone to bed and I decide to try and get some rest. I go to our tent and find a narrow open spot between Andrey and Tommy. It’s a little warm in the tent, but I already know that the bunks alone will hurt my hips. So, I roll out my sleeping bag and grab my pillow. My sleeping bag is a regular bulky one that I use for camping and there is just room for it to roll out, but remain folded in half. That’s my spot, just about a foot wide…snuggled in between 2 people that I just met yesterday. I stow my shoes, but stay fully clothed because I know that worst case, I’ll wake up in a few hours and best case, I’ll wake up at 3:30.
Waking up implies that I actually sleep though…which I’m not sure applies. The “tent” is a plywood covered structure and creaks and pops loudly with the movement of the sea. The wind picks up and the swells pick up. The gentle rocking of the boat increases as I try to rest. I’m occasionally woken from something like sleep by the ship cutting through a wave and bouncing loudly off the water. I realize later that this really only happens under motor power. When we are sailing, she rides merrily on top of the waves instead. The weather sounds pretty rough from inside the tent and I remember wondering if this is too bad to set the sail or not…and kind of hoping a little for the former and a little for the latter. My brain will not shut up.
Someone comes in the tent, wakes me from what must have finally been sleep and calls all hands to deck to set the sail. It is midnight or so. It is raining. The boat is pitching side to side what seems an awful lot to this landsman. I grab my shoes and make it outside to my box. I am in that state where you have only been asleep for a little while and are struggling to come fully awake. My eyes are sticky from the rain and salt spray and I can’t really see well. It’s nearly pitch dark anyway. Clouds cover the moon and stars. All I can see is mist around us on the ocean and the tops of the swells as they break, seemingly glowing in the night sea. I am in a movie, or perhaps a dream…but not a particularly nice one.
I have no sea legs yet and feel like a baby giraffe, barely capable of standing, much less walking. I’m fumbling for my red head lamp and trying to find my already wet foul weather gear and get it all on and zipped up. The zipper on my jacket is finicky. They call us to opp stående and I stumble past midships to the aft of the ship and find my place. I realize that I haven’t yet put on my life vest, which is bad. I’ll have to go get it afterwards. Tommy is in his place on the right, but Doug is missing on my left. I know that he is still struggling to get dressed and say as much. We are going to set the sail. Nearly half of the crew is new. We have heard the procedure described, but that’s not the same as knowing what to do at all. They tell us to get ready and I head back to get my life vest on. It won’t buckle around all of my other gear and I struggle with it for what feels like forever. I pinch the shit out of my right thumb and feel a blood blister instantly raise. Now I am incredibly flustered in addition to being more than a little afraid.
I make my way back to the aft and many people already have places at the spiela (sp) or windlass which we use to raise the sail. One young man is already leaning over the side of the ship being sick. Before we know it orders are being called out…in Norwegian. “Spake opp!” is called to pull the spokes of the spiela round and begin to raise the sail. Anyone can call “stop” if they see something amiss, but only the one leading the raising is allowed to call “spake opp” to begin again. We pull down the spoke, grab the next one, pull out the first and pass it to the man on the other side of the spiela. Something is slowing us down and someone asks if anyone sees a problem. I realize that the gallows on which the yard rests is caught in the corner of the sail. I say as much and it is freed. We continue. The watch leaders and experienced sailors give us info on what to do as they can. A couple of the folks pulling on the spokes begin to feel seasick as they sweat under the exertion of raising the 2 ton yard and sail.
We go slowly, just as Bjorn promised we would. I don’t honestly even remember what I was doing at this point, if anything. At some point, I made my way to either a brace or a sheet to assist with hauling it. We finally get the sail to the halfway point and prepare to do a Kai maneuver which we all know is the most dangerous thing we do on the ship. About 5 or 6 of our strongest people grab the brace and contra-brace on the starboard side and begin to haul in toward themselves, bringing the yard on that side down and close to parallel with the mast so that we can get it clear of the shrouds which hold the mast steady. They call for volunteers with good balance to get up on the sleeping tent to pull from there. “No heroes” David says. There is no world in which I am comfortable doing that. Truth be told, I am as scared right now as I think I have ever been. I don’t swim well and I’m afraid of the ocean. Oh, haven’t I mentioned that before? I am keenly aware that one wrong move and I could simply get pulled over the side of the ship, which only comes to about mid-thigh here. All these sailors are just doing their thing as comfortable as you please and I’m focusing hard on the task at hand and trying to keep from shaking visibly.
Several people have moved to pull the yard into place and they slowly and carefully clear all 6 shrouds. Once they are clear, we all begin to ease out or haul in on the lines until the yard is once again perpendicular with the mast and ready to be raised the rest of the way. At this point, I am mostly comfortable with what I am doing. “Spake opp!!” as the yard is raised the rest of the way up and everything is set and secured. I have no idea how long it takes us to do this, but we do it. Some of us are ecstatic and some of us look shaken. Bjorn tells us all is well in spite of a few small snags along the way and so we are released to go back to bed. Eventually, exhaustion takes over and we sleep.
“Midships, wake up…it’s 3:30. It’s cool and still raining.” Calls a friendly voice quietly. We wake, put back on our foulies and life vests and we grab snacks from the Night Watch box and a cup of slightly stale coffee from the Fika Box. The sky is shrouded with light fog and a faint green tinge. We are sailing along merrily in the light rain. Bjorn tells us that we are sailing at 9-10 knots and he looks delighted. Once the sun rises, we will adjust some things and set the beitas so that the sail is trimmed neatly. When that is done, we will end up close to 11 knots with the Northeast wind directly at our backs.
Sometime around 4:30 a.m. or so, Tommy calls out “dolphins!”. And I’m right there on starboard side in front of the steerboard. 2 smallish dolphins are swimming along with us, not 15 feet off the side of our ship. After the stress and fear of the night, I needed this. The sight of them fills me with joy and I am certain I was laughing out loud at it. I know that no matter how hard this is, it will be ok. Because for every moment like last night when I was wondering what on earth I have done, there will be a moment like this, where I am awestruck by the beauty of the world around me. And it’s going to be ok.
