Life on Board

 
My watch had ended and I stripped of my wet weather gear and climbed wearily into bed at 0415hr but not before setting my alarm for 0700hrs,
I was not going to miss breakfast!
 
After two hours sleep I rose and pulled on more warm clothes. The confines of my bunk were warm and inviting, heating in the wall next to the bunk was so comforting,
the Oosterchelde goes down to the Antarctic so under floor and wall heat is not a luxury, it’s necessity to stop the ship and her crew from freezing up.
 
I had hung my wet weather gear in the shower ensuite of our two bed cabin, my cabin mate, George was on deck doing his watch so I was able to dress easily in the small space. I opened the door and braced myself before leaving, timing the roll of the boat so that I could close the door easily on the return roll. We had a toilet and a urinal closet outside the cabin, all beautifully lined with tiles and air exhaust keeping fresh air circulating.
 
I briefly climbed the stairs to the entrance cabin, wet weather gear hung all-round the perimeter although a warm air vent kept the space a lot warmer than outside. As we travelled further south the temperature had dropped to 12deg C and we were still exposed to the North Easterly swell coming around the tip of Tasmania.
 
I walked down the stairs past the kitchen, Fennardie the chef slid across the floor with the grace of a ballerina and smiled widely to me as she took another tray of sausages out of the oven. The dishwasher spewed water from its lid and surged around the floor before draining away. In the dining room wine glasses in the cabinet tumbled over as the ship rolled and anything that did not have a non-slip mat tumbled to the floor.
 
I took a plate of muesli and added lashings of yoghurt and honey and waiting for the return roll of the ship to find a chair and sit down. One of the conscripts had unwisely brought their muesli, toast and coffee all in one trip and wore the contents down the front of their clothes and spilling into the bookcase nearby.
 
The chairs had a restraining chain attaching them to the floor and the Captain had advised us that this was for the chairs benefit not ours. After poor Ed Rensen was caught off guard yesterday with the spring loaded chain letting go and falling against the mast, hitting his head everyone was taking more care not to load the chairs and hang onto the table instead.
 
On the wall in the cabin there was an inclinometer showing the angle of heel and it was oscillating at 8-10degs which was at least less than the 15deg of the night before. I finished breakfast and went back to bed as I was due on watch at 1400hrs that afternoon; sleep came easily with the comfort of a full stomach and a warm bed.
 
Lunch was at 1330hrs so I had time to eat before my next watch, Fennardie seemed to have the kitchen under control as the sea state had abated a little. Every day Fennardie cooked bread usually two or three different loaves, Rye, whole meal, Vienna. A selection of sliced meats, salami, ham and turkey with cheeses and condiments following by another slice of Vienna bread with lashings of Nutella spread as dessert, coffee and fruit to finish off.
 
I put on my wet weather gear, said hello to George as he climbed into his bunk to sleep and went on deck at 1400hrs. The wind had eased from force8 to force 6 and the sea state though choppy with white caps did not have the North east swell as we were in the shelter of the Tasmanian coast now. In the comfort of the navigation room I checked our position  which was 8 nm off the Pieman River , our speed sitting at 8.4 kts.
 
On deck those not on watch found shelter behind the cabin from the biting wind. When we started out the 22 conscripts and 6 crew made it feel a little crowded on deck but now that some were sleeping, eating or sick it felt less so. Some of the sick had come out of their bunks and sat meekly getting some air whilst my friend Edward Rippier (76yr) from England lay on the cabin top resting.
 
Maarten the first mate decided the main course yard arm was rubbing on the main sail so we were all put into action to wear the yard around a little. All three yards, the Gallant sail, Fore Top Sail and lower sail yards had to be worn around. With two people on each of the yard sheets anybody on deck was conscripted to make up the twelve people we needed.
 
Yards worn and lined up to Maarten’s satisfaction we set to work to coil the ropes again.
In broken English our Dutch crew would bark out instructions
“Coil them clockwise!”
“How big do you think your hand is, with all that rope coil it on the deck.”
“Who coiled this rope?”
Throwing the rope on the deck, he said.
“Coil it again and don’t have it touch the deck.”
 
For some who were in positions of charge back in their old world it carried no weight on the Oosterchelde, we were all equals, just that the Dutch crew were a little more equal than the conscripts. Never the less we were all united with one purpose, to sail the ship.
 
The fore sail had developed a tear in it during the gale and needed to be replaced with a small storm Jib whilst it was repair sewn again. Hoisting the jib required 4 people on the halyard to raise the jib and another 3 people on the sheet to make it fast. Crowded around the belay pins we pulled in unison, hand over hand until Maarten shouted
 
“Belay.”
“No! I didn’t say, make fast. I said belay.” He chastised the tailer out person
“OK now, one, two, pull out and down.”
“Now make fast.” He said giving the instruction to the person tailing the rope around the belay pin.
 
1800hrs, only two hours to go before dinner at 2000hrs, I hope Fernardie keeps dinner going. The wind had eased further now and our boat speed was 5.5kts. The Europa had pulled away in front and the Tecla that had started after us and anchored behind King Island in the height of the gale was now closing on us.
Captain Gerban ordered more sail!
 
It is a sailors lot, raise sail, reef, take it down and raise it up again, and at two hours before dinner we set too taking the reefs out of the Main course, schooner and Mizzen and raising the Gallant sail again. We’re starting to get good at this, and good at coiling ropes too! After another excellent dinner, coffee and a chat with our fellow travelers I went to bed setting the alarm for 0330hrs to do my next watch.
 
Sleep came easily but seemed too short and at 0200hr I climbed out of my warm bunk, donned thermals, pants and tee shirt, jumper and then my sailing pants, jacket and boots and went on deck
 
17th Sept 0600hr
Lat/Long         42’59.68S        144’59.72E
<div style=”margin: 0in 0in 0pt”>COG/SOG      167 deg  @ 7.3 kt
Temp 13 deg C
 
We were now 25nm west of Tasmania. On dusk last night six little birds (silver eyes) had landed on the rigger and kept attempting to fly into the wind back to the mainland finally resting and feeding in the coils of rope on the belay pins, this morning they were gone. We are sailing well now with a steady 15kts of north east wind and moderate SE swell. Captain Gerban has been trying to get permission to enter Port Davey but the Maritime authorities steadfastly refuse saying we must have a pilot.
 
“Give us a pilot.” the captain replies.
“There are no pilots.” Is the response.
 
After talking to the other tall ships by radio it was agreed they would ignore the official directions and go in. Other concerns of transferring root rot fungus on into the world heritage area were addressed by following the governments shoe disinfection protocol. At breakfast Gerban announced we would go into Port Davey.  At 1000hrs we changed course to 143deg and headed for Port Davey.
 
The conscripts were now starting to settle into a routine of life onboard the Oosterchelde and now half way through our voyage we all knew it would eventually end, but not just yet.