Location: Underway to St Helena
A timid finger prodded me awake not long after dinner. Theres a squall approaching. I poked my head out and made a windward scan. The dark mass of the raincloud with its promise of wind loomed heavily to the south. We still had the full-size main sail flying after a thrilling day of putting good miles below the keel, but the high-flying fisherman topsail had been put to bed for such nighttime weather events as these. I ducked below again to don the essential foulies and type V lifejacket before emerging back on deck to join Watch Team 1 in the chilling breeze. The dark cloud crept towards us and wrapped its icy fingers through the rig, announcing its arrival. Kackie, on the helm, began a battle for each turn on the large wheel, preventing the vessel from rounding up into the gusts that would stall our progress. As a result, with each pressing gust and each fight for possession over the rudder, Argo began to accelerate. Our spritely 8kt average speed crept up over the next two hours until we were seeing sustained numbers in the double digits. The logbook read two entries of over 10 miles in those two hours, a blistering pace for our Argo. But as the night wore on, it became clear that this stiff breeze was not likely to relent, and we would be in for an exciting night of sailing. Around midnight, it became time to shorten the sail to relieve the pressure on the helm. We opted for dismissal of the trusty main staysail, and at the change of watch, this came down and was lashed to the boom to rest. The relief on the helmsman was instant, and they had only to focus on not oversteering by keeping the wind on the back of their left shoulder. I made my way back to my bunk and left the conn of the ship in the capable hands of Watch Team 2. Though they masterfully steered Argo through the gloomy star-and-moonless night, I still lay awake listening to the creaks of the main boom, the rushing swoosh of the water just centimeters from my head, the groans of the steering gear, and the periodic shouts of excitement from the cockpit as they hit new speed milestones from time to time. Tuned into the sounds and movements of the vessel, my senses stayed piqued through the night as Argo was given a good leg stretcher.
By morning, with the gift of daylight, the wind had shown quarter, and we took the opportunity to set a reefed mainsail. This required special effort at the change of watch, and a few curve balls in the form of tangled lines and uncooperative sail flakes turned this into quite an endeavor, but our fairly green crew of shipmates are quickly becoming seasoned old salts with each challenge they work through. By mid-morning, Darien, Olympus, and Dave were hard at work in the galley making cinnamon rolls and eggs for lunch, and Argo was potting along in a lighter breeze with reduced sail. The main staysail reappeared to add to our drive, and by lunch, we were making a steady 7kts again. Most of us had never had homemade cinnamon rolls, eggs, diced potatoes, and blueberries in the same bowl before, but it should be said that this is definitely worth trying. During cleanup, the deckies, Nini, Sylver, and Kacki,e struck the jib, which was no longer drawing because the wind had backed behind us and was now shielded by the main sail. Ben and Nicole then took their classes in turn and are now known as the MARBLE teachers MARine Bio and LEadership, respectively. These classes are held every other day, with Seamanship, nautical science, and Oceanography every day between while on passage.
The wind is now consistently behind us which makes for interesting helming, but our shipmates are learning the essentials of downwind sailing, a critical skill when entering the tradewinds on an ocean crossing. Last night, we marked half a thousand miles into the logbook, and today, we reach the one-quarter mark on our way to St Helena.
Before dinner, it had to be established who could pick up a padel ball (surprisingly not equal in size to a tennis ball) with their toes. Amongst the champions were Sylver and yours truly (see photo for an idea of the toe dexterity this requires). The suns golden tendrils have broken through the grey capstone of cloud this evening, and the wave caps of the distant horizon are burnished bronze. Sonnebloms smile warms from deep within x