Monday 30th January, 1956
Logged 112 miles
Sea down slightly but "Penelope" continues rolling like a beer barrel. Poor Oliver is still under the weather. He said "I guess I'll never learn. I had an idea that a sailboat, without engine smells, would be less hard on the stomach". Holding his tummy hard seems the only slight relief. "Oh, this ketch"! said he, mournfully. In a day or two he will find his sea legs, I hope.
Ran into a school of tunny fish on the morning watch and skipper and Juan tried to harpoon some, without success.
The brownish water observed yesterday after the tanker had steamed North was again seen today. This time there was no ship. Looks like whale spoor.
Oliver slightly better towards evening.
During the afternoon watch the diesel starter motor commenced working on it's own and it was necessary to disconnect, immediately, the leads from the accumulators. Our efforts to locate the short-circuit, probably caused through water in the engine room, proved fruitless. This is serious, inasmuch as we cannot charge the batteries from the main engine, from now on unless we can locate the short.
Trolling for fish. No catch.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Chapter One - f) - Sunday 29th January, 1956
Sunday 29th January, 1956
Logged, to noon 98 miles.
Woken by a banging of ropes, blocks and booms. Rushed up on deck, where the skipper, at the wheel, informed me sheepishly, "I jibed"! He had left the wheel to put the bung in the diesel exhaust pipe in Penelope's stern post.
Skipper, Juan and I all soaked on night watches. Taking over considerable spray but hoisted jib for the sake of stability and extra speed, at daybreak.
Skipper cursed Juan who very nearly fell overboard carelessly just before dawn. Had he gone over he would probably not have been seen in the bad light and could not have swam far in his oilskins. He says that in the Spanish Navy they throw you (for training purposes) into a rough area, fully clothed plus oilskins and make you swim. Tough eggs!!
Passed a North-bound ship about 6 miles to windward, in the afternoon watch. Looked like a tanker which left a trail of brownish water - possibly bilge pumping's - which we sailed through, an hour or so after she had passed out of sight.
Skipper and I both seasick. Oliver still bad.
Trolling for fish. No catch.
Logged, to noon 98 miles.
Woken by a banging of ropes, blocks and booms. Rushed up on deck, where the skipper, at the wheel, informed me sheepishly, "I jibed"! He had left the wheel to put the bung in the diesel exhaust pipe in Penelope's stern post.
Skipper, Juan and I all soaked on night watches. Taking over considerable spray but hoisted jib for the sake of stability and extra speed, at daybreak.
Skipper cursed Juan who very nearly fell overboard carelessly just before dawn. Had he gone over he would probably not have been seen in the bad light and could not have swam far in his oilskins. He says that in the Spanish Navy they throw you (for training purposes) into a rough area, fully clothed plus oilskins and make you swim. Tough eggs!!
Passed a North-bound ship about 6 miles to windward, in the afternoon watch. Looked like a tanker which left a trail of brownish water - possibly bilge pumping's - which we sailed through, an hour or so after she had passed out of sight.
Skipper and I both seasick. Oliver still bad.
Trolling for fish. No catch.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Chapter One - e)
Saturday 28th January 1956
Awoke early and, after completion of essential stowage duties, hoisted sail and weighed anchor around 11.000h proceeding under power towards the harbour entrance.
Cleared forts at noon and at 13.30h, off Itaiṕ́ú Beach, streamed log, stopped the engine and set a South-Easterly course according to plan. Now in a short choppy sea "Penelope" jumps around a bit. Logging 5 knots we have the familiar Rio skyline slowly behind us,
and roll valiantly into the broad South Atlantic.
Oliver and Juan seasick (after Juan had produced a tasty omelette for supper with plenty of Spanish olive oil).
We are on Greenwich Time, which we consider as Ship's Time for the sake of convenience. It seems odd to have daylight until 21.00h whilst dawn breaks at 07.00h.
Called out at 21.00h to shorten sail for the night. Running on reefed mainsail (2points) and jip only. "Penelope" labouring and shipping considerable spray. With about force 6, Beaufort Scale.
The skipper's last words on handing over the watch to me were - "Be sure not to jibe her".
This is what is called "teapot weather" in Penelopean parlance when the beautiful stainless steel teapot jumps from the "Primus" stove, slides along the pantry shelf, over three fiddles, and lands up on the deck - as it did, right in the middle of the oranges whose drawer had worked loose - in the corner of the foot of the chart table!
Trolling for fish. No Catch.
Awoke early and, after completion of essential stowage duties, hoisted sail and weighed anchor around 11.000h proceeding under power towards the harbour entrance.
Cleared forts at noon and at 13.30h, off Itaiṕ́ú Beach, streamed log, stopped the engine and set a South-Easterly course according to plan. Now in a short choppy sea "Penelope" jumps around a bit. Logging 5 knots we have the familiar Rio skyline slowly behind us,
and roll valiantly into the broad South Atlantic.
Oliver and Juan seasick (after Juan had produced a tasty omelette for supper with plenty of Spanish olive oil).
We are on Greenwich Time, which we consider as Ship's Time for the sake of convenience. It seems odd to have daylight until 21.00h whilst dawn breaks at 07.00h.
Called out at 21.00h to shorten sail for the night. Running on reefed mainsail (2points) and jip only. "Penelope" labouring and shipping considerable spray. With about force 6, Beaufort Scale.
The skipper's last words on handing over the watch to me were - "Be sure not to jibe her".
This is what is called "teapot weather" in Penelopean parlance when the beautiful stainless steel teapot jumps from the "Primus" stove, slides along the pantry shelf, over three fiddles, and lands up on the deck - as it did, right in the middle of the oranges whose drawer had worked loose - in the corner of the foot of the chart table!
Trolling for fish. No Catch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)