Unintelligible orders were so rapidly given and so immediately executed; there was such a hurrying about, and such an intermingling of strange cries and stranger actions, that I was completely bewildered. There is not so helpless and pitiable an object in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor's life.
--R.H. Dana, Two Years Before the Mast--
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Note: In the following narrative I describe hard work and many aches and pains. Please note that these are not required to sail on the Rose. While there are no passengers on the Rose, all trainees are allowed to set their own limits. It's just my nature to push mine.
9/10/00
The first view of the Rose from the dock at Bristol was impressive. She is a beautiful ship and though she is no clipper, she looks formidable to a lubber like me.
The ship is open to the public and it was a very different feeling to come aboard with my bag followed by the curious looks of the touring public. I have often toured large sailing craft, wishing that I could sail when they left port. As I walk the deck with my nephew, Gary, I hear a woman say, "I wish I was sailing on her." Then I suddenly realize that I need wish no more.
As we walk the decks I look at the maze of ropes and realize that my reading and memorizing mean nothing at this point, I cannot recognize a single thing. Well, things are as they are, I will learn what I need to, I suppose. My expectation has been replaced by anxiety; will I be able to do this?
Soon enough Gary has left and after being greeted by the mates, Jesse and Robert, I am shown below and assigned to my bunk. It seems that there is only one other trainee aboard so I have a whole section of a compartment to myself. The professional crew can sail the ship alone so the trip is a go regardless of the number of trainees, that is a relief.
I go topside and watch the crew at play, and they seem a wild and unruly bunch of kids, as they engage in a water gun fight and proceed to throw one of their number off the dock. I stand to one side, a bit shy to mix and I can see them sizing me up with sideways glances as they talk together. I imagine that after seeing a few hundred trainees come and go you might hold back from a hearty greeting of each one. Since I have no other trainee to talk to I sit and watch.
Supper is called and the crew comes alive, tumbling down the hatch. Meals are apparently an occasion and the food is good, to be sure, and there is as much as you can eat.
After supper there is a short orientation with the captain, Andy. He is a relief captain for the famous Captain Bailey. Andy is a younger man with a full beard and seems professional and businesslike. The orientation is brief and informal since there are only the two of us, and covers only the essentials. Andy says we will learn the rest as we go and since there are only the two of us we will get plenty of attention.
First day impressions: the ship seems to show some wear, with a frayed line here and there and some deck caulking loose. I do not really know enough to judge, though. The crew is young and a bit wild, these things I know something of, but they seem to get along well. Discipline seems to be lax, and there is a lot of horseplay, but this is not the Navy. It will be interesting to see how they behave at sea.
The captain, the mates and the cook occupy the Great Cabin in port and the crew seems to congregate around the capstan. My fellow trainee is Mike, and he is a professional photographer who is on board mainly to work on photographing the ship. He is a friendly fellow and we get along OK. Mike heads to town for a nightcap and I go below to retire.
It does not seem real yet but here I am, writing this in my quarters in an 18th century warship. Tomorrow we sail. There is no set course, just go as the wind takes us. There is the possibility that we will only day sail, and I hope that this is not the case. I want as much as I can get out of this experience. And night sailing would be part of it all.
I am somewhat puzzled that there are only two trainees on the ship. In all the US are there only two who have seen this opportunity and wish to sail for the very reasonable price of $950 for the week? That does not seem possible yet it seems to be the case.
9/11/00
We are under way and I missed the departure. Our orientation aloft was the first thing after breakfast and I was clinging to the t'gallant yard as I noticed that the shore was moving. I had been concentrating on hanging on, I guess. It does seem high and it's been a few years since I climbed towers for a living.
The breakfast was excellent, by the way, French toast, bacon, juice, fruit and cereal, I left the table full and happy.
We proceeded at first under engines but the fore and aft sails were set. I was sent aloft right off to loose the fore t'gallant and did not accomplish much as I was mostly busy hanging on and looking at the water and deck rolling 100+ feet below me. Then down to the deck to set the t'gallants and top sails with much hauling of ropes and we are sailing. There has been a change of routine and we are in two watches of six hours instead if three watches of four hours. I am in "B" watch, 1-7 day and night. Jesse, the second mate, Tom, the AB, Guy, Kay and Tim are on my watch.
The watch consists of hour long stretches of bow watch, boat check, wheel, and idle in rotation. The bow watch is the eyes of the ship. You scan in all directions, but especially forward and report all you see that may be the concern of the mate. This includes any vessels or other floating objects that could be a danger to the ship. Nothing is too insignificant for a new bow watch person to report. I never saw anyone get in trouble for reporting too much but I did see a crew member catch holy hell for not reporting a buoy that was seen by the mate on deck at the last minute and had not been reported. You also report lobster pots directly to the helmsman so that he might steer around them. The signal is a wave to catch his attention and a pincer movement of the fingers to signal "lobster".
Boat check is a quick survey of the condition of the ship. This takes place hourly whether we are under way or not. It consists of checking the levels in the bilges, taking readings in the mechanical spaces and a general look around.
The trick at the wheel is self- describing. Idler works as a deck hand in sail evolutions and runs errands, does dishes, checks the coffee pot and whatever.
All went well enough but my first trick at the wheel was predictable. Tom says that most who have sailed in small boats have trouble on a wheel because you steer opposite from a tiller. I kept turning the wheel the wrong way and overcorrecting. Then on my second trick I had a sort of epiphany and realized that if my desired course was to the right of the centerline I should steer right to get there. Geez. Oh well, after I got that I started relaxing and the overcorrecting problem gradually took care of itself. It did not happen at once.
Ditto, something as simple as coiling and stowing a line. This would seem to be a no brainer but I managed to screw it up and had to practice many times before Tom stopped throwing my coils onto the deck for another try. I was no better aloft and did not get much done as the crew worked around my struggles. One thing they never did was take over any job I started but let me finish and learn in my own time. I really am not stupid but I felt so for a while. Fortunately, the crew is experienced in dealing with lubbers like me and they never showed a bit of impatience. I was grateful for that. I was not assigned to a work party but this day I climbed and hauled much and I am tired. Off to bed as I have to either be up for watch soon or all hands to anchor and stow sail. A good day.
9/12/00
I had trouble falling asleep with the unfamiliar rolling motion of the ship I fell in and out of a half doze for a while then finally fell into a fitful sleep. As I was sleeping I became aware of a change in the sea and heard loud clanking noises from above that I imagine was the anchor being prepared. Then I heard the engines start and then a huge noise that could only have been the chain playing out as the anchor let go. I never heard a call for all hands so I did not volunteer but rather rolled over and went back to sleep. This was not an easy thing to do, however as every bone in my body aches from the day’s exertions and it is difficult to find comfortable position. Ibuprofen proves powerless against these aches.
I do not know why I was spared. Perhaps some pity for the old trainee?
At 0430 I awake and go topside for a look around. We are, indeed anchored and there is a pretty good breeze and it has rained. I go below for some more sleep and feel lucky to have it. My poor fellow trainee on the other watch worked all day yesterday, did a watch of six hours and was probably sent aloft to stow sail in the dark at the end of that. I expect he’s asleep.
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Some observations from yesterday:
The rowdy undisciplined crew that I described yesterday changed into squared away sailors once underway. They responded quickly and professionally to all calls from the mates and took the initiative to be on the spot aloft or on the deck to handle sail evolutions. So they come through where it counts.
The Able Body Seaman (AB) who is assigned to herd me around is named Tom. He is an interesting young man, named by ‘60s parents for Tom Baggins from Lord of the Rings. He has a quotation in runes tattooed on his arm that translates “All that is gold does not glitter and all who wander are not lost.”
He has worked Tall Ships for about five years, being on the Bounty before the Rose. He has studied Eastern Philosophy at University and we conversed on Buddhism and Taoism. He is not large in stature but carries himself with confidence. He has red hair that he wears in a braid and rather looks like he might fit in with an 18th century English crew.
Speaking of 18th century crews, talking with Tom and other crewmembers I learn that many of the stereotypes one might have of square rig sailors are still true. Fresh water is still as much a premium as ever so casual bathing is a luxury. Navy showers are the order for trainees but it seems many crew do not bathe between ports and, if a bar is near when the ship docks they might forgo a bath even then. Tom reports that the Rose crew has cleared a space of several yards around them by merely choosing a table and sitting down.
Cussing and ribald humor is still the norm and hard drinking is not unusual. So sailors will be sailors it seems and these kids were not so very different that I was thirty years ago when I rolled down a gangplank into a new port.
Hunter, our cook is an artist. All that comes from his kitchen is wonderful. There was a soup at lunch that was obviously a labor of love. It was a mélange of veggies and spices that came out perfectly. If you are on his good side he is a charming and pleasant man but he rules in his galley and the crew do not cross him. If you ask why a certain rule is so, these hard sailors say, “Because Hunter says so!” as though it were a decree from above with no appeal. It seems we have been neighbors as he used to live in Santa Rosa and has a degree in English Lit from Sonoma State.
We sailed by Block Island in the afternoon and I happened to be at the capstan when the crew discussed this. Block Island is a favorite of theirs and they were bitter. They were also bitter about the change to six-hour watches as “A” watch wound up working an 18-hour day yesterday with the late hour of reaching the anchorage. As they were muttering around the capstan I got the feeling of being in a time warp back 200 years “as the crew muttered bitterly casting black looks aft to the quarter-deck.” All that was missing were two marine guards with muskets standing at the step leading aft.
It turned out that Mike and his watch went aloft themselves to do a sea furl in the dark and the AB, Adam, never did call all hands. So I, and my watch were spared by the macho action of the AB. Luck of the draw.
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We had another fine breakfast and started our day’s work. Then the call went out for all hands to man the capstan. The anchor is raised with the capstan alone and this is hard work. The line to the anchor is wrapped around the capstan and the call goes to ship your bars, where upon we put our bars into the capstan and the stoppers are flipped to allow the turn in the proper direction. Then the call goes to “walk around” and you push with your chest and shoulders against the bar, stepping over the anchor line as you walk. As the crew pushes, two crew beat on the line with belaying pins to keep the line from riding down. The line, by the way is woven nylon several inches in diameter. After much hard pushing a halt is called and we get the call to pull our bars so I thought we were done. Wrong! The anchor rope is replaced by a smaller rope and the process is repeated for the chain, many more hard trips around. Then we stowed the bars and ran to brace the yards and set the sails though the wind was not in our favor. We motored for a bit until we could set a more favorable course and then we killed the engines and began to sail. This was fine for a while but the wind shifted and we began to tack. This was the cause of much pulling of ropes, most of which I could not follow so I just went and pulled where told. I am beginning to get blisters but I am loath to put on gloves. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow.
The topsail schooner Californian passed us and we saluted each other with our cannon.
Well, we tacked all afternoon and made about a mile headway in this wind so we struck sail and started the engines again. So I was aloft again and found myself on the fore t’gallant yard doing a sea stow. OK but then it was to the main course, which was much heavier. I came down from the rigging pretty bushed and was glad that it was my trick at the wheel so I got a rest. Today I have steered under sail and under motor and find that it is much easier under motor as you have more headway and she answers the helm faster.
The day is done except for harbor watch and I am plenty tired. I ache in places that I didn’t know I had places but it was a good day. I broke down and took a shower so I guess I’ll never make a proper square rig sailor man.
Talked for a bit today with a crewmember, Christine. She is a German girl of 20 years who has worked for several years on tall ships so she is tough and able. I ask what her folks think of her doing all this and she says they are not happy. She will go home this spring to apprentice to a sail maker in Hamburg but she is ambivalent about this. She wants to learn the craft but would rather stay on the ships.
We are motoring now in moderate seas with a 25-knot breeze. We will anchor again tonight off of New Haven. At least the square sails are already furled, so, to bed
ALL HANDS
Did not get to sleep when they called us all out to prepare to dock at New Haven. We are a couple of miles out and the deck becomes a flurry of activity and I am pulling ropes in the dark for there is no light on deck save the dim light afforded by the running lights.
This crew is efficient and all know their stations as we get set up to dock. We dock next to two schooners; one of these is the Armistadt, whose crew helps us dock. The captain grants shore leave and I go along to a place called Jack’s and buy a round. I thereby pay a debt to Guy who went aloft to the t’gallant to correct one of my lashings that I did not feel good about. Jack’s is a tough place but the Rose crew fit right in. I leave early because I have watch at 0100 so my night is pretty well over. Oh well, as the sign says above the coffee pot, “Coffee! Sleep when you die!”
9/13/00
We were given an extra hour because of our workout yesterday and because the captains of the Rose and the Armistadt have arranged reciprocal visits.
I caught a half hour of sleep before my watch and slept like a baby after so I am rested. Port watch is mostly a boat check and a watch for intruders who, it seems are fairly common. Tom says it’s like someone coming, uninvited into your home.
We start today with mops, brooms and a deck wash and when this is complete we go and tour the Armistadt. She is a topsail schooner and some smaller than the Rose but brand new.
We pull out at about 1000 and I’m aloft to set the foretopsail and the fore course. I cannot say that I am much help yet but I’m moving around better up there.
The other trainee, Mike is a professional photographer so I am given the chance to accompany him in the Avon to get shots of the Rose underway. What luck. The second mate, Jesse, runs the Avon and we zoom in and out at all angles to shoot her. For bow shots Jesse runs the Avon practically under the bowsprit and I admit that was a bit hair raising with the bulk of the Rose bearing down on us from a few feet away.
Boarding and leaving the Avon while underway was a fun bit of adventure in itself.
Once back on board a quick lunch and it is time for my watch.
What a glorious day for sailing! A weather front came through last night so the wind shifted around so we set all sails and sailed full and by down the sound and did not have to touch the sails all day.
I truly did enjoy my trick at the helm and am finally starting to get the hang of getting several hundred tons of square-rigger to go where I want it to go, even in the light breezes. Fair winds, and sunshine and all is well with the world.
All good things must end and soon it is time to prepare to anchor. I am aloft again to furl sails and am even of some small help. I am learning that a new person is not expected to be of much help right away or even for a couple of weeks so I don’t feel so bad about being clumsy up there.
A beautiful day, a wonderful supper, some chat with tea on deck under a full moon and I am about ready to sleep. There is a disturbing rumor that there are to be 20 school kids sleeping aboard on Friday night. This is not good.
Some of the crew: Robert is our first mate and his wife Tina is aboard and works at various jobs to pay her way, or so it seems is the arrangement. Robert is the strictest of the officers and has the shortest temper. Yesterday we were bracing around on a tack when it was discovered that a piece of rigging called a bowline on the fore course had not been cast loose. It is enough to say that you cannot tack when this happens. Robert yelled to let loose the bowline but by then there was heavy strain on the line and a turn was fouled on the cleat and could not be freed so we were in danger of being stuck in irons (a bad thing). The seaman on the rope had the misfortune of saying something stupid and Robert let out a roar and ran to the line and cut it loose with his knife sending the line flying. The crew said that they had never seen this done before…. But they said it quietly.
A funny thing happened today. I am not so tired and am really beginning to like the whole experience.. I think.
9/14/00
The day was not the best for sailing. We started, as usual, on the capstan raising the anchor. I remember in the Navy that I used to always get a small thrill hearing the words, “anchor’s aweigh” when we were at "sea and anchor" detail but when you are at the capstan those words only mean that you still have lots of pushing to do, and no one says them anyway.
I was curious about the chain and found that it is used for additional weight as much as anything. I was aloft and furling sail last night when we dropped anchor and the chain played out like it was string. Now we pull it back, one straining step at a time. “Ship your bars!” “Flip your stoppers!” “Walk around!” “Hold!” the calls go out in choreography as old as ships.
We no sooner get the anchor up than we are sent aloft to set the sails, reefed.
As it turns out there is plenty of wind this morning, all of it from the wrong direction and we spend the morning beating our way about a half a mile to windward. Finally enough! As we are due at a fuel dock and we start the engines and motor to Bridgeport. Another trip aloft to furl the sails and my admiration for these young sailors increases. They spend all day at ship’s work broken by trips aloft or working a sail evolution. They have admirable stamina.
As a trainee I have been overlooked for ship’s work when not on watch so when we are tied up I go below for a much needed nap. I am pretty beat from the work and the sunburn. I’ve been putting on a 45 block everyday but I think I sweat it off.
After fueling we go down a few docks to the Company homeport, a marina owned by the family responsible for restoring the Rose. Everyone seems happy to be somewhere, though Bridgeport was not their first choice. Paychecks and mail are here, though so it will do.
I clean up and walk uptown to the crew’s favorite watering hole but see no familiar faces so I stop by Kay’s Marina to call home. I see a couple of folks there so I went upstairs to the bar and bought a round and went back to the ship to call it a night. A light day on the Rose is more exercise than I normally get. Guy, Mike and Christiane head for a stripper bar but I decline as that seems like trouble.
Guy is a younger man who finished university not too long ago, sociology, and is doing this for the time being because he loves it. He was in a “semester at sea “ training program and got hooked there. The second mate, Jesse, says that the tall ships are a cult and sail training is a major way young people become hooked as crew. Some just love it. Guy says he loves the wild, stormy times as much as the beautiful days. Tom said the same thing.
9/15
Woke up to rain and Mike decided to leave the ship at Bridgeport. He has been antsy anyway as he’s got a bunch of prints to work on. This is a big contract for him, the biggest he’s had.
He was gone about an hour and the sky began to clear. By the time we got underway there were blue skies and by the time we set sail it was a glorious day for sailing. As before we start the day aloft to shake out the sails, then to the halyards to set them, then to the braces to brace around the fore and main yards. These kids are climbing and running and hauling continually but I seem to be keeping up, kind of. We then ware ship, which means more hauling of the braces and then aloft to fix a harbor furl on the fore t’gallant that didn’t suit Tom and I’m beginning to fade a bit. Then it’s my trick at the wheel and suddenly I’m driving my own 179’ square-rigged yacht up Long Island Sound on a glorious fall day… and I’m feeling the pull of the cult.
As we neared port I helped with a couple of harbor furls and we finished the last one on the fore course while we were tied up at dock. It did feel good to be on the yard while the crowds below watched our work. I was working so hard as we neared the port that I noticed little of the entry into the port. It’s a funny thing about working before the mast on a ship like this, that much of the experience of sailing escapes you as you concentrate on the tasks at hand.
These amazing youngsters performed well today in spite of the fact that many of them had a pretty good blowout last night. There was talk of police and citations and such. My, it sounds familiar.
There was a mob of high school kids on board tonight getting oriented for a day sail in the AM. The crew works well with them and seem as adept at this work as they are at the labor of ship handling. They are a versatile bunch.
Out and about this evening to view the town and back early to bed. I had been moved to the crew’s quarters in anticipation of the kids sleeping over. The kids were cancelled but I stay with the crew as I do not want to move again. I feel as though I've been promoted.
9/16/00
Wrote until I felt myself dozing off last night and then down to my new rack to sleep. I slept straight though until 0715 and lights on. Shannon, the other female crewmember came down and very nicely addresses each crew member by name until she gets a reply. When Hank the bos’n woke them up yesterday it was all yells and noise. The crew must love it when Shannon has the watch.
Shannon has worked desk jobs and as a corporate trainer. She used to study gymnastics and you sometimes see her doing stretches on deck. What a fine place for a gymnast is a square-rigged ship!
Hank has worked at the Jamestown Historical Monument and has a love of history. He worked on ship replicas there. He’s a large blond guy with dark brown eyes and a demeanor that reminds me of my son, David. Hank is ship’s bos’n but an ordinary seaman which is below Tom’s AB rating. I watched them have a difference of opinion on seamanship that was pretty heated for a bit but then ended with a couple of good natured verbal jabs and an apparent agreement to disagree. I believe that this need to accommodate differences is absolutely essential in an environment where you must not only work but also live in close quarters with your co-worker. Their disagreement was not so important as both respect each other as sailors, I think.
And so another breakfast as the kids come aboard and my trip is done. I shake each hand with a heavy heart and thank all for their help and patience.
Will I do this again? I think so. It was hard and sometimes dangerous work but in some small way I was able to touch life on a square rigged ship both past and present.
The sailing of the Rose turned out to be the secondary experience to meeting the extraordinary people who sail these ships. They are kids, mostly, with a few elders and all have left the normal world to live a life of long hours, back breaking work and low pay in order to do what they love. They are courageous in many ways and I grew to respect them all.
Shannon, Christiane, Tina, Andy, Robert, Jesse, Bitsy, Hunter, Tom, Adam, Hank, Tim, Jamie, Andros, Paul, Kay, Guy, Ed. Thank you for an extraordinary experience.
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