Daily Journal

July 3, 2010

By David M. Lawrence

The dawn watch waker-upper forgot me this morning, but I managed to wake up myself in time to join C Watch on time. Given that I had slept through my own alarm, I can't say that my 10-minute tumble out of my bunk and up onto the quarterdeck left me anywhere near fully functional when I arrived.

I'm no longer listed on the watch schedule. I'm a pinch-hitter now – it's my responsibility to show up and find out if, when, and where they need me. This morning junior watch officer John Miller needed me on deck. I pinch-hit for the entire nine innings.

John first asked me to do something I've never done before – plot a DR (dead reckoning) of our position. Dead reckoning is a time-honored maritime tradition. From their last known position, they plot their course and distance traveled on a chart. Where the bearing intersects the distance traveled, you have your DR position.

Dead reckoning is more art than science. Historically, the technique has been fraught with errors. If your last "known" position was wrong, if your bearing is off (from helm incompetence or compass error, for example), or if your estimate of your distance traveled is wrong, your DR will not reflect your actual position – which can make bad things happen. An old geography professor of mine at LSU-Shreveport, John W. Hall (aka Neander T. Hall), used to joke that it wasn't called "dead" reckoning for nothing.

Out here, however, there aren't any rocks, reefs, shoals, or sand bars to accidentally park the boat on. The primary hazards are other ships and floating debris, such as lost shipping containers, but vigilance rather than navigational fixes are the best protection against those.

About 0345 hours I began a boat check. All was well, and at 0400 I relieved Roman Shor on bow watch. There wasn't that much time for introspection on the bow this morning. We had to change our sail plan – drop the JT and fish, gybe, pass the stays'ls and jib, and gybe again – in preparation for a neuston tow scheduled to begin at 0430. Normally, the bow watch person stays out of the way of those striking or setting sails, but this morning, as the JT was trying to break free from Wendy Kordesch and Steve Putnam, who were trying to furl it, I grabbed the port JT sheet and held it over the bowsprit so that Wendy and Steve could more easily tie the sail down.

Wendy relieved me on bow watch at 0500. Shortly after that, the neuston net came out of the water and we scrambled to raise the JT and fish and trim the other sails for forward progress. I felt almost useful. Actually, I felt useful. When it was time to raise the fish, I went to the one line I remember, but the hardest one to pull to raise the fish – the fish throat halyard. Roman and Wendy joined me to help haul the sail up. Well, maybe Roman and Wendy did most of the hauling, and I pulled as much as I could without getting them crossed up. When we were done, I made the line fast without any need for help or advice from anyone else. For me, that was an accomplishment.

We finally got some time to breathe after setting the sails. The sunrise was spectacular this morning, as usual. Sunrises and sunsets over the Sargasso Sea are almost always spectacular – so much so that I have to remind myself not to take them for granted.

In the last hour or so of dawn watch, I saw more flying fish that I've seen the entire cruise – with the exception of a squadron of flying fish I saw on our first leg out of Bermuda. Several of them were quite close to the ship. Some looked like fish skipping across the water like rocks – up, down a little bit, touch the surface, up again, down again, and so on. It looked almost like they were actually flapping their wings. When I observed one that took flight from near the quarterdeck, however, I noticed that when one fish made contact with the water on its glide down, it kicked its tailfin pretty hard and went airborne again. I doubt flapping of the other fins had much to do with the repeated ascents.

This afternoon, we held field day. As usual, it was a frenetic flying pinball explosion of moving stuff out, cleaning, climbing, cleaning more, crawling, cleaning more, and moving stuff back. Not only do the members of each watch help each other, the various watches help each other if it means getting the job done faster. Today's field day had a wrinkle, however – it rained on A Watch and the science staff as they cleaned galley equipment and lab equipment, respectively. The extra rinse probably helped the cooking gear, though.

Afterward there was a scramble for well-deserved showers for members of the two off-duty watches. B Watch, however, had to return to duty and conduct a neuston tow. They found help when they needed it for sail handling, though – a sure sign that team spirit is strong no matter how weary the extra hands are.

As the sun descended toward the western sea, the clouds hung around the horizon – paving way for more squall development into the night as well as for a spectacular sunset.

It is a good day to be at sea.

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For more from sea, listen to an interview with Chief Scientist Giora Proskurowski on the July 2, 2010 Science Update podcast, produced by AAAS.