During one of the firsts night on the ship, my watch officer called into the lab for us to help strike the jib. A couple of us groped our way over to the jib down-haul as our eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. It was just past midnight on our first 11pm-3am watch and none of us knew what we were doing. When it was time to furl the sail our mate yelled out to the first three in line to call out their names. She repeated them back then instructed us to come up to the bow and clip our harnesses into the cable running along the bowsprit. I had seen the net under the bowsprit during the day but had never climbed out to it, let alone in the dark.
In order to furl the sail you have to balance on the cross hatches of the net while working with both hands to "flake" the sail canvas. Furling the sail that night was a blur of just following precise orders while the sail magically folded between the four of us and got tied down. All the while the bow was slowly ascending then dipping down to crash on the surface of the water. It felt like at any moment our feet would brush the surface.
We were harnessed in and standing on our safty net, but that didn't stop the adrenaline, especially when a foot slipped through and you ended on your hands and knees. We had spent the past week onshore memorizing the name of the sails and practicing knots, but this first night of sail handling wasn't about learning. It was simply about carrying through a task with a sort of urgency that seemed to persisted every time we worked with sails.
Within several days we were expected to get a grasp on all the sails and lines that made up the rigging of the ship. Each of the nine sails along with bonuses like the storm stays'l were connected to some combination of halyards, down hauls, in-haul/out-hauls, braces, and sheets. The commands consisted of readying ourselves at a line then easing it or "hauling like mammals!" which was followed by us yelling "2,6, heave!" We also sometimes hung off deck boxes to make the most of gravity while "sweating the line." There was so much to learn about line handling and proper procedure with such large sails.
In order to furl the sail you have to balance on the cross hatches of the net while working with both hands to "flake" the sail canvas. Furling the sail that night was a blur of just following precise orders while the sail magically folded between the four of us and got tied down. All the while the bow was slowly ascending then dipping down to crash on the surface of the water. It felt like at any moment our feet would brush the surface.
We were harnessed in and standing on our safty net, but that didn't stop the adrenaline, especially when a foot slipped through and you ended on your hands and knees. We had spent the past week onshore memorizing the name of the sails and practicing knots, but this first night of sail handling wasn't about learning. It was simply about carrying through a task with a sort of urgency that seemed to persisted every time we worked with sails.
Within several days we were expected to get a grasp on all the sails and lines that made up the rigging of the ship. Each of the nine sails along with bonuses like the storm stays'l were connected to some combination of halyards, down hauls, in-haul/out-hauls, braces, and sheets. The commands consisted of readying ourselves at a line then easing it or "hauling like mammals!" which was followed by us yelling "2,6, heave!" We also sometimes hung off deck boxes to make the most of gravity while "sweating the line." There was so much to learn about line handling and proper procedure with such large sails.
Towards the end of the end of the voyage we gathered in our respective watch groups to compete against each other in a relay line chase. As soon as the race started it seemed like all my practice went out the window. The boat was rocking and we were all stumbling around while the rest of the watch yelled "hot" or "cold" from the quarterdeck. Suddenly C Watch got their next index card..."Form a Congo line and dance to the bow and back." Halfway through we all started to realize this meant we had won. We had upset certain rivalries among the watch officers and consequently made ours very proud.
Despite our victory we still had a lot to improve on. Everyone later laughed about how they originally thought the mates kept saying things like "jive" instead of "gybe" or couldn't figure out what part of the main sail was the "sheet". The best of these moments was when my watch officer told us "prepare to brace yourself for the starboard tack." My friend and I promptly went over to the right hand side of the boat and grabbed the railing. Our watch officer had to yell at us several time before we realized that she was trying to get us to adjust the topsail braces as we were turning...
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