SEA Currents: Robert C. Seamans
November 04, 2016
And then there were Fifteen
33° 22.0’ S x 173° 57.0’E
Course / Sail Plan
C/o 130° PSC, 6.4kts under the tris’l, stays’ls, and jib.
Clear skies, winds F4 SSW
Nerves are on edge around the ship. The ship’s company has transformed from loyal shipmates to literal backstabbing looms in the shadows. Every word spoken is carefully analyzed for lies by the listener, attempting to decide if they are being sent to their death. Tensions are a result of Seamans’ real life version of the board game Clue currently in full swing. Participating shipmates were assigned a place, a “weapon” (e.g. story book, triangle, rubber glove), and a target to wack before New Zealand. Since beginning yesterday, already 20 have fallen. Bex and Chloe currently have the highest body counts. I wish I could say my death was quick, but instead Bex, lurking behind the media filters in the forward machine space, sprung upon me, leaping on me like a wolf upon its prey, plunging a chocolate-peanut butter granola bar into my neck, pulling me to the ground, brushing a gentle kiss of death upon my forehead. And then there were fifteen.
It’s fun times like these that made me realize that I’m not ready for SPICE to be just another trip that I did a few weeks ago, then months, soon to be years. Sure, the places we have voyaged to have been unimaginably, breathtakingly beautiful and the lessons we learned just as rewarding and profound, but it is the community that we have on Seamans that will be the hardest to say goodbye to. It’s a pretty unique feeling to feel at home on a ship with your professors and shipmates while simultaneously never being further from home. The relationships fostered since shore have been strong and special, breakable only by a ruthless game of Clue, and will be perhaps the hardest aspect of our community to find in life back on shore.
Yet in two days’ time I’ll have to stumble, likely grizzly, possibly smelly, most certainly humbled, and if I’m lucky a slightly lighter shade of green than I was in Pago Pago, off the gangway and onto dry land for the last time this trip. I think it’ll be an odd feeling, leaving something so beautiful behind, but it would be an understatement to say I’ll never forget a second of it. Until then, I can sit back and enjoy these last days of sailing, entertained by the gorgeous approach to the North Island and my tiptoeing shipmates, jumping with fright around every shadowy corner that as of late feels an awful lot darker and impending than it did last week.