The flies were incessant that afternoon. As we slapped them from our ankles, Candace told me that it meant a storm was brewing somewhere above our heads. She couldn’t remember who told her that the flies get ravenous before torrential downpours. How could they possibly know? I found out later that insects respond to the falling barometric pressure by feeding to survive the harsh weather. The muggy conditions increase insect activity, as well as their attraction to human skin since body secretions increase as well.
I didn’t believe her until the wind picked up to at least thirteen knots, evident in the white brows capping each wave. Then came the thunder like a growl -- the frequency of which increased as we sliced our way through Lake Michigan. Next came the lightning, too distant to see its individual fingers stir the lake, so the flashes illuminated the entire horizon. And in those split seconds of light, I could have sworn it was noon. The rain behaved more like waves since it was whipped off the quarterdeck and danced to the rhythm of the wind. I remained under the protected shelter of the deck above.
…
For this leg, I sailed as a passenger with Picton Castle. Not having a watch was definitely an adjustment; I had an unprecedented amount of time on my hands. My only job was to blog and create social media content for Tall Ships America, which I am accustomed to juggling along with full crew responsibilities. The professional crew expected nothing of me, but I desperately wanted to learn and to have my skill set utilized. I spent all my waking hours on deck in a harness to reflect my eagerness to work. I would jump in whenever I could be of service, and eventually, one of the watches decided to unofficially adopt me. When we were idle, I made my own work. James taught me to worm, parcel, and serve shrouds (create multi layer protection to protect standing rigging from the perils of deterioration). He also showed me how to oil and sharpen my pocket knife to abate rusting. I made a point to participate in meal clean up and domestics, the not so glorious components of sailing tall ships, even though I was not obliged to. I quickly learned that no one would teach me or ask me to do anything unless I advocated for myself, asked the right questions to prompt a lesson, and jumped in when they needed a hand.
When I asked the Chief Mate about standing a watch on Picton for the next transit, he agreed almost immediately. He went on to explain that making me a dayman passenger on the last transit was to see if I would be proactive about my own learning. He did not bother to stroke my ego, to tell me that I passed, because he’s not that kind of person nor did I need the validation. Though I think he agreed to me standing a watch because I had displayed the initiative to ask for it and proved that I am eager to be here.
Upon returning home to Picton from a long day of interning, I was greeted by the melody of a six piece orchestra on board for the nightly reception. They played for the crew before the guests arrived, a triple meter jig apt for waltzing. We romped around the deck in bare feet, switching partners every song or so, giddy and glistening with sweat on that muggy night. I had learned the American waltz in high school gym class; I can do a somewhat clumsy but convincing box step while rotating around clockwise. DJ, one of Picton’s trainees, helped me perfect my craft. Alex, one of the mates, showed me a two step waltz and didn’t even seem to mind when I stepped on his toes.
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