Chapter 3 - d: Saturday 3rd March - Logged 124 miles

Another show-down this morning on the 01.00-04.00h watch, between the skipper and Juan.  The Skipper, observing the tell-tale compass in his bunk caught Juan off his course 45º to the north on three separate occasions and bawled him out.  Don't know what the reason is but Juan told me afterwards, when I took over from him, that the wind had died down and he bore away to maintain steerage way, rather than "Penelope" should stop completely.  The skipper denies this and says it is an excuse for bad steering caused either by lack of concentration power or a complete lack of interest in the ship's destination and safety.  Maybe we shall have to take Juan off steering at night and put him permanently in the galley.  In this case the skipper and I would have to take all the night watches.

During lunch time we saw a flock of about twelve Cape birds, the first indication that we are approaching Africa (320 miles as the crow flies to Cape Town at noon).  They met and fraternised with our two faithful's: - "Dopey", a brown albatross which never takes the food we throw it, but which has followed us for the last three weeks, and "Blackie" a petrel which has been with us since very shortly after leaving Rio.  He circles around us even at night, when we see him sometimes silhouetted against the moon and follow us, evidently, just for the fun of it.  The albatross seems to disappear at night.  We think he sleeps on the water.

Later in the afternoon we almost ran down three white bellied killer whales.  15/20 feet, estimated 3 tons each:-

The skipper thinks they have come to have a look at us, thinking we might be another whale, and therefore, prey.  He dashed below for the movie camera but they turned tail and sounded immediately, just a few meters from "Penelope".

We have not yet "smelt" africa and hope we don't too soon, as this would probably mean an off-shore wind, the last thing we want right now.

Trolling for fish.  No Catch.

Chapter 3 - c: Friday 2nd March - Logged 129 miles

At 07:00h 500 miles from Cape Town.

During lunch we caught our second fish, a small (+16lbs) tunny which we shall eat immediately, although we still have quite a lot of tunny No.1 preserved in olive oil, which will feep for some time still.

Launched bottle No. 6, with cork and orange stopper in

Lat. 33 08'S
Long. 9 00'E

The noon position put us considerably up to the North, as we had experienced a 40 mile set since noon yesterday.  Heading, as we are to a zone of contrary winds and the probable adverse effects of the aftermath of the Agulhas current we put about on to the starboard tack, to steer a SE'ly course.

Both the British Admiralty Sailing Directions and the U.S. Navy Pilot chart insist that Cape Town must be approached, by eastbound sailing vessels, from the South West, and we are, at the moment in a most unfavourable position to do this.  The Agulhas current sweeps westwards round the Cape of Good Hope, from Durban to Cape Town at a rate of as much as 100 miles a day, then continues, joined by Benguela current, up the coast of South West Africa.  This is a factor which affects us very seriously.  After Cape Horn the Cape of Good Hope is possibly the most dangerous coast in the world for approaching sailing vessels.

We had had no opportunity so far to get sufficiently far South, partly due to adverse winds and partly through Juan's steering at night which is abominable.  He doesn't seem able to concentrate on the wheel at all.

News (WARNING: SPOILER): a letter sharing love about Penelope Elle

Dear Mr. Frank Aldridge,

I am Francisco O. Martins, and, as I think you already know, I met Your father when he arrived to Lourenço Marques ( actual Maputo ), Moçambique, sailing The Ketch Penelope Elle.
I met him and his wife, together with my father that was at the time the leader of the so called Portuguese Youth Organization.
This Organization had a Sailing School Department so to say, and it was agreed with your father, that Penelope Elle could be used by this Sailing School, that in compensation would take care of her and see to her proper conservation until such time when your father would decide differently.
In fact major reconditioning and conservation work was carried on immediately and  I , together with my Sailing School colleges enjoyed many, many hours of sound sailing on Penelope in the LM bay ( see attached picture ).

Years later and after a missed attempt to sail her back to France ( fire on board and problems with crew to my knowledge ), she was sold to Mr. Eckie Eksteen ( South African pharmacist ), and sailed back to LM from Port Elizabeth  ( were the trip had ended ). Being a great admirer of Penelope Elle together with my colleague Mário Crespo, we were given the responsibility to take good care of her in the name of her new owner, including sailing her frequently down to Durban and back, and we did so until 1970. We lived so many good moments and adventures in Penelope Elle, that, now retired, I and Mário Crespo ( one of today’s leading pivots in the private portuguese TV station SIC ), decided to try and recollect the history of this beautiful ketch, for which we can add a lot of stories and hopefully pictures as well.

We are not trying to write a book, nor do we intend to make any profit out of this idea. It is simply a “ love affair”  with  Penelope Elle. Can you help us?
We will share with you, Adele Aldridge, Gayle Remish, or anyone you point out to us, all the stories and pictures we will be able to collect.

Penelope Elle was ”abandoned” by her owner following the controversial independence movement in Moçambique ( I had already left LM), and unfortunately it seems that she sunk in the LM bay, at her mooring, near the Matola village ( far end of LM bay). I have people in Moçambique trying to collect concise  information on the last years of Penelope.

Hope that you can help us, namely with some photos, pieces of her history, or whatever you think appropriate.
I will keep in touch,
Please accept my Kind Regards,

Francisco Oliveira Martins

Chapter 3 - b: Thursday 1st March - Logged 115 miles

In the absence of a spinner we have arranged a (double) tunny hook on the end of the troll line, and a "bait of orange and white horse hair.

Made porridge for breakfast.

Continued running the Easting down, averaging nearly 5 knots.

600 miles from Cape Town.

Both Oliver and I have lost considerable weight on this trip, albeit for different reasons.  My own loss amounts to approximately 15lbs, due to unaccustomed exercise.  In spite of the fact that one gets no walking exercise at all the body is consciously and subconsciously resisting the motion of the ship, the whole time, even when one is asleep.  This, coupled with pure air to fill ones lungs and the lack of the normal preoccupations for the somewhat unbalanced diet at sea.

It is strange to hear no telephones and no motor horns for week after week.  Quite a rest for the nerves.

Trolling for fish.  No catch.

Chapter 2 - ab: Wednesday 29th February - Logged 91 miles

Last night we had an explosion in the galley.  Porridge jammed the safety-valve of the pressure cooker and when the lid was released it flew off, spattering hot porridge all over the bulkheads, deckhead, deck and various kitchen utensils.  The galley looked rather like the aftermath of a Laurel & Hardy custard-pie throwing bout.  It is strange that the pressure cooker affects the aneroid barometer.  When the valve is opened the barometer drops, usually a couple of points.  No doubt the instrument is too near the stove.

At 01.00h today we were 700 miles from Cape Town.

A heavy Southwesterly swell has been building up for the last day or two, which makes steering difficult, particularly with a following wind.  "Penelope", or any other boat of her size for that matter, is apt to lose a lot of the wind in the troughs, which makes her roll heavily.  As in the gale on the night of 23 February, the height from trough to crest was approximately the height of our mastheads.

Steering with the wind aft involves the serious possibilities of jibing and broaching to, on which the skipper has given us some timely lectures.  Jibing in the heavy sea at best would mean torn sails and gear, and a lot of water on deck and might, in the worst analysis, even cause dismasting.  "Broaching-to" can happen either after a jibe or, on the contrary, if the boat planes along the top of the seas too quickly, when the seas are travelling faster than the craft.  She may lose steerage way, come up into the wind suddenly, broadside on to the swell when the first big roller will land on her deck - 10 or 15 tons of water - with a bang.  If the hatchway to the cabin is open, as it usually is by day, then all this mass of water will fall below.  Such treatment has, in the past caused vessels to founder.

At lunch time, the wind having slackened, somewhat, Juan at the wheel, let the sails get aback - at the wheel, let the sails get aback - the beginning of a jibe.  The skipper simply roared at him and he sat there, seemingly petrified.  The man nearest the wheel grabbed it and swung the helm hard over.  Fortunately it was not too late to bring "Penelope" round, but had the wind been stronger anything might have happened.  The skipper is very worried about Juan's apparent recklessness and unconcern regarding important details of the sailing, especially on the night watches.  Juan seems to think the skipper is a fussy old man and that he himself knows best.  An awkward situation.

We were eating a delicious dish of curried tunny and rice, with onions, potatoes, raisins and a bottle of J. Sherwood& Co's "Green Label" sweet sliced mango chutney at the time.  The dish had been prepared at Oliver's request, but he was unfortunately unable to enjoy it due to "Penelope's" vicious roll.

Chapter 2 - aa: Tuesday 28th, February - Logged 126 miles

The Westerly wind continued during the night, during which we flew along at 5/6 and sometimes 7 knots.  It looks as if, at long last we are out of the variables and 'running the Easting down"  in the approved style.  I suppose we can't have everything and our Westerlies are accompanied by a heavy Southerly swell which makes "Penelope" roll mercilessly.  Nothing in the cabin nor to deck will stay "put" unless lashed down.  In the galley all is chaos; the lentil soup pours over, half over the stove and half into the fruit salad, whilst the mixture of fruit salad and lentil soup, in it's turn, pours over the table and on to the deck or down into the cupboard where we keep canned goods for immediate use.

Cups, plates, pans and jars jump clear of their brackets and shoot across the galley, whilst the "Primus" stove fails to vaporize the kerosene and big white flames shoot out from under the pans, adding gusts of black smoke and acrid fumes to the medley and the mess. 

How the skipper managed to produce our lunch today I wouldn't know.  His curses - enough to make a parson blush - were heard all over the ship, even above the sound of the wind in the rigging.  Nevertheless we partook of: -

Cold fresh tunny and caper sauce
Hot (canned) steak and kidney pie and potatoes in their jackets
Canned marron glace paste

in the cockpit (our dining room).

We have suspended trolling as the fish have taken all the spinners!

Logged 3,000 miles from Rio.

Chapter 2 - Z: Monday 27th, February - Logged 36 miles

We have now reached the point ⊗ on the square of the U.S. NAVY S. Atlantic pilot chart which serves as our wind and current guide.

 An excellent document (No.2600 Dec. Jan. Feb., price 30 cents).  The arrows around the centre ring show percentages of prevailing winds; the feathers the average force to be expected and the small figures in the circles, the number of days in every hundred when calms may be expected.  The red figure is the average number of gales to be expected in every 100 days.  Today we got a real Westerly wind for the first time, after a rain squall, which may mean that we are at last "on the run" for the cape.

 

Chapter 2 - Y: Sunday 26th, February - Logged 65 miles

Launched bottle No.5 in :- Lat.  35° 55'S
                                            Long. 00° 00'

with dark green stopper and a cork, in addition.

The Chronometer has been very erratic lately and we are very grateful to get the time signals over the ship's Stomberg Carlson radio receiver, from Washington D.C. observatory, which always come through very clearly at night, more so than the English signals.  In addition to this radio we have a radio direction finder - useful in the British seas and narrow waters in thick weather and, finally, a portable radio, stowed in a yellow waterproof jacket, next to the RFD dinghy (see Feb 20) to be placed in the dinghy in the event of our having to abandon ship.  This is a remarkable little generator-radio, which generates its own power by having a handle turned.  A shipwrecked mariner, therefore, as long as he has any strength left, can turn the handle with one hand and press the S.O.S. button, which transmits automatically the S.O.S. signal, continuously.  There are in all 3 buttons, as follows:-

     a) - S.O.S. transmitter button
     b) - Morse radio transmission (to indicate position of survivors)
     c) - Morse lamp transmission

There is a telescopic steel aerial, to cover about 15 miles and a flying Aerial, sent aloft either on a kite or a hydrogen-gas balloon (both supplied with the apparatus) which covers a radius of several hundred miles.

The radio is packed in a small attache case, on which there are printed full instructions including the Morse code.

Today we sounded the fresh water tank again, which showed 50 litres only.  Lucky the skipper has three carboys of Bahia water and some flagons from Rio in reserve.  The water situation is now extremely serious and will become critical if we don't get sufficient rain soon to try out the P.D.C.D. on the mainsail. An hour's good rain (with no spray!) would be sufficient, we think to fill the tank.

Slatting around all day practically no wind. 

No trolling.

Chapter 2 - X: Saturday 25th, February - Logged 115 miles

"Wham" went the trip-line on the troll in Lat. 35°17'S, Long 02°00'W at 9.00h, on Olivers watch, indicating that: -
          a)  a bunch of seaweed (we have seen a lot floating around recently)
or      b)  a big fish
had attached itself to the spinner.

Juan started hauling the 5mm nylon line - some job too - whilst I called the skipper, who was taking a cat nap.  Soon a huge white Tunny came into view.  Too heavy to haul on board directly the skipper harpooned the fish, exceedingly skilfully I thought, and we hauled him on board in the net.

 

A beauty, estimated at 60 lbs, and big enough to keep us going on fresh fish until the end of the voyage D.V.

After preliminary photographing and filming - some filming of the skipper cuddling the fish, and cutting it up, was done by me - the real work of carving, sorting and preparing parts for preserving commenced.

The filming on this voyage is being done for the French (Govt. Controlled) television, with whom the skipper has a £1.000 contract.  As there is close cooperation between the French television and the B.B.C.  it is possible that some of our escapades will be shown in England in due course.

The bulk of the meat of the tunny is being cooked and kept soaking in olive oil.  Today's menu for lunch:-

     Gin and orange

     Fresh boiled Tunny; potatoes and sauce

     Argentine peaches (canned)

     Orangeade (from bottled O.J)

     Coffee

How good fresh fish tastes, after 28 days at sea!

We are now down in the 36º parallel and have experienced already some light westerly winds.

Chapter 2 - W: Friday 24th, February - Logged 88 miles

The weather improved during the night and dawn broke with a nearly cloudless sky, the wind having fallen considerably.  The aftermath of the swell remains but it is now once more possible to take a step across the deck without grabbing some part of the rigging previously or being thrown on one's neck.


In the afternoon the wind died completely and we ran for 12 hours almost due South, on power in search of "the Westerlies".

Sighted, about 2 miles ahead, a large school of Tunny Fish jumping out of the water, apparently feeding on lesser fish and obviously having a great time.

The skipper went forward with the harpoon but the Tunny were evidently moving southwards at a greater speed than "Penelope" and we failed to catch up with them.

Observed considerable quantities of kelp.

Trolling for fish.  No Catch.

Chapter 2 - V: Thursday 23nd, February - Logged 129 miles

Discovered a large (1,50m long) piece of Tristan seaweed on "Penelope's" fore deck at day-break.  Caught in the halyards, having been thrown up by the sea.

Last night was bedlam let loose.  We reefed the mainsail at 01,00h and ran on our course, at a good speed, averaging 6 knots through the night.

In addition to the fresh breeze we ran into a succession of squalls of gale force and some downpours of rain.  "Penelope", as a boat, behaved splendidly, but what a motion!

In the past I have sympathized with, from the broad deck of a steamer, the dogger-bank fishermen working in their drifters in the shallow, steep, north sea, and wondered how they could possibly work, or even think, in all that tossing.  Last night we had some of it ourselves.  Normally running with lee gunwales awash "Penelope" rode majestically over each successive swell, only to roll steeply over to the other side on the downward plunge into the trough.  From crest to trough was about the height of our masts.  Losing part of the wind, in the trough, she would right herself with a vicious jerk and then roll again to leeward as she picked up the wind again.  Then, approaching the crest again she would give a corkscrew motion apparently in defiance of the treatment, and resume her downward plunge.  In addition to this, at the end of each sudden gust she would go into a quick see-saw motion, one moment with the bowsprit buried in the sea and the next with it rearing drunkenly up in the air.  It was terrific.  No stomach could resist such motion.

My watches were 19.00-22.00h and 04.00-07.00h but I was called out in addition at 01.00h to take the wheel whilst the skipper and Juan reefed the mainsail.

Around midnight I was lying in the cabin, fully clothed and sea-booted waiting for the emergency and listening to the deafening cacophony of the wind howling and the rigging, the straining of halyards, topping lifts, sheets, guys and lashings, the pounding of the sea on "Penelope's" foredeck and the constant wash of water over the port holes when, half dreaming I thought I heard the staysail being lowered.

The skipper was on watch at the time and I thought to myself "That crazy man has left the wheel to lower the staysail by himself, in order not to disturb (!) the crew" - he is most considerate always in that respect.  Shortly afterwards "Penelope" started her see-saw motion and quietened down a trifle.  I had the impression that we had hove-to.  Everything was suddenly so quiet, relatively, that I had the feeling he had gone overboard - a very easy thing to do on a night like this.  I leaped up the deck ladder and happily was most relieved and reassured to see his familiar outline in the faint glare of the binnacle lamp, crouched over the wheel in a cloud of flying spindrift.  I gave him a cheery hail and went below again.

The sun rose like a big red ball, during my morning watch, and plunged immediately into a dense black cloud bringing a further heavy rain squall to wash off the salt caked on my oilskins!

Oliver relieved me at 07.00h, pausing to vomit over the side before grabbing the wheel manfully, with a wan smile.  He looked rather pathetic with his little red beard and sou'wester rammed down his ears.  Bully for 01.

Yesterday the skipper spontaneously voiced my sentiments, as he said to me "I am profoundly grateful to Oliver for having, in spite of his continued sea-sickness, maintained his day watches all through this voyage, thus relieving us to get some sleep during the day and maintain the routine running of the ship.  I don't know how we could have managed, without his help".

All day long we ploughed through the heavy seas, fighting our way eastwards in a running battle against the equinox.

130 miles made good from noon to noon. 

Trolling for fish.  No catch.

Chapter 2 - U: Wednesday 22nd, February - Logged 82 miles

The skipper is worried about the increase of water accumulating in the bilges, seeping as it does, through the bob-stay bolt in the stem, which was examined carefully today from both in-board and out-board:-

This bolt was made - by some criminal, before "Penelope" was acquired by the skipper- of iron and not, as it should have been, or non ferrous metal, The jib pulls off the jib boom, subjecting the bolt-stay and bolt to considerable strain.  It is possible that this bolt may soon carry away.  We hope not.  It is very rusted up.

After noon today the weather became more threatening and the heavy SWly swell lengthened as the wind freshened.  Blowing hard we struck the mizzen sail at 22.00h

Trolling for fish.  No catch.

Chapter 2 - T: Tuesday 21st, February - Logged 126 miles

Launched bottle No.4  in: -  Lat. 34° 10'S
                                               Long. 7° 50'W

with a pale green stopper.

During the afternoon the wind veered two points, enabling us to steer a slightly more Southerly course, much to everyone's satisfaction. 

Paraffin (kerosene) has now become a very important item, as stocks are visibly dwindling and without it we cannot work the primus stove, hence no hot food, which would be disastrous.  The skipper considers the food question almost if not quite as important as the navigation.

A crew must be well fed, not only to maintain their physique but their morale, apt to slip on a long voyage uninterrupted by ports of call.

So far there have been no signs of this, though we are beginning to tire of tinned food.  Fresh, we still have left:-

     Potatoes - +\- 2 weeks
     Onions    - +\- 1 weeks
     Pumpkins  - 2
     Sweet Potatoes - 5

All the fresh fruit has gone, but it lasted well so we cannot grumble.

I hope the Jap radioed Lloyd's yesterday, as then the folk in Rio will know we are still in the land of the living.  It seems strange to be in Limbo for a month.

Have told the skipper that he must not grumble about his crew, signed on at 48 hours notice, as their efficiency cannot be compared with that of his previous crew, which took 3 months to engage and had 9 months' practical experience when they deserted Rio.  He seems very happy all-in-all in spite of the fact we are a bit slow in changing sails, and are very undisciplined.  He is trying to sign me on for a round the world cruise, in 1959.

Sounded the fresh water tank again, which showed that supplies are getting uncomfortably low.  With the idea of controlling our fresh water, reserved strictly for cooking and drinking we have been all along rationed to one mug-full per day each, for toothcleaning.  Apparently Juan misunderstood these instructions and has been too liberal at the pump.  This, coupled to the lack of rain, has caused the present serious shortage.

Trolling for fish.  No catch.