No. 7 - Crusted With Salt
My cabin is one level up from the main deck overlooking the
starboard bow. Above, and set way back, are the master's and
chief engineer's cabins, the radio room, and the radio officer's
cabin. Above them is the bridge. The ports look out over the
forecastle where the anchor windlass, capstans and bollards are
firmly rooted. I can see over the bow to the horizon and the
view is more intimate with the oncoming sea than that from any
other protected vantage point. To take advantage of such a spot,
however, one must be able to see. The weather, while not being
mean, has been soggy and miserable -- fog, rain, wind and
icebergs. Every time I've gone to the bridge in the last several
days, the captain has been there pacing. Our tracklines between
stations look like the trail of a drunk sailor. My windows are
crusted with salt and there's nothing to see.
But the weather began to change as we moved east and north. It
snowed early this morning -- enough for several inches to pile up
and for the night watches to throw snowballs at the oceanographer
who was trying to listen to BBC on his portable short-wave radio
in order to collect late-breaking stories for the newspaper he
posts every morning -- but that's another story. Later today, as
we came past the end of King George Island, the fog began to
retreat, we got glimpses of smaller islands and grounded hulks of
icebergs and even the sun for a moment or two. I retreated to my
cabin to write some notes in the afternoon as the ship turned
downwind and we traveled with a following sea to the next
station. The fog had thinned had there was noticeably more light
and texture in my spaces -- which consist of a foreroom, about 6
by 9 feet containing a clothes cupboard, a small refrigerator, a
desk and a bench, plus an alcove for a sea bed and an all-in-one
sink/toilet/shower. Best of all, there are three rectangular
ports, each about 1 by 2 feet. After clearing away some rust,
some weather crust and a coat of new paint covering it all, I
opened one port wide and enjoyed the afternoon. The wind was
behind us and the ship was riding the swell comfortably; I could
hear an albatross all the way from his normal flying position off
our stern as he looked for edible morsels to jump out of our
wake; and it was glorious to be able to see more than a few
hundred feet. Hump day is tomorrow and this may be a good omen.
-Roger