So Close We Could Smell It!
Saturday, June 17th, 2006
Late afternoon on June 16, the Picton Castle crew brought their ship to anchor in quiet, sheltered Port Mouton, Nova Scotia. We were chilled to the bone at sea, but nearly encircled by the beautiful shoreline and lush green landscape, the sun and the air quickly warmed the ship nicely. Layers of sweaters and toques began to peel off. When we went aloft to stow sail it was warmer still; Doc Jeremy attributed it to being high above the frigid Atlantic water.That evening we held our last Marlinspike party together as crew of the Picton Castle’s fourth World Voyage. Of our 51 crew 36 have been together since April-May of last year, I believe this may be a record for this old sailing ship. We know our ship and we know one another, inside and out.
Before the Marlin Spike was to officially begin, Captain Moreland called an all-hands muster amidships. We stood in front of the scuttle to the Main Salon, leaned on the main fife rail and lower tops’l sheets, sat atop the fore braces on the port side, and as many of us who would fit sat cross-legged on the cargo hatch to hear the Captain speak. Then our Captain addressed us privately for the last time. His words made our hearts swell with pride at our massive accomplishments: we travelled 28,000 nautical miles throughout our global circumnavigation, and we put our ship and one another above anything else in our lives for an entire year. We were loyal and committed and we brought ourselves safely around the world.
At one point or another during the Captain’s speech my nose began to sting and I had a lump in my throat so big that it ached to get enough air in my lungs. My eyes were burning and began to water and I think I can even pinpoint the second my heart broke. I turned my back to my Captain and my shipmates so that no one would catch me silently blubbering from my perch atop the port pin rail. I tried to focus all my attention on a red and white local fishing boat that was motoring into the distance. The water was as calm and smooth as a sheet of ice.
There’s very little chance that I was the only one welling up with emotion. Our crew have a lot to be proud of. We have achieved what we set out to do, and the reality was that the next afternoon our ship’s family would separate and face the world that should be most familiar to us, but we have to rediscover it without the excitement and chaos of experiencing it with 50 shipmates.
The Captain gave the order for the Galley Crew to go into the hold and get the beer that had been chilled in the freezer for us! What a treat to have a cold drink aboard! The Galley Crew set up the Marlinspike punch on the starboard pin rail and Joe fixed up an enormous pot of his infamous popcorn, which was plopped down at the port forward corner of the cargo hatch, within easy reach of anyone cruising past.
Sea chanteys and traditional maritime music piped down on the Marlinspike from where Maggie had lashed the stereo on the Bridge. A pink sun set all around us and reflected on the ship’s white hull and the faces of those of us standing at the rail. For old times’ sake, Kjetil slipped away from the party unnoticed and returned wearing one of the funniest costumes we’d seen all year—a perfect way to end the voyage’s final Marlinspike!
At 0615 this morning (the 17th), Kolin gave everyone their wake-up and the crew dragged their groggy selves on deck. We joined one another stretching and yawning on the foc’s’l head waiting for the order to heave away on the windlass.
The mud was thick and the old hook dragged her fluke and heavy chain link by link. Andrea M. stood on the foc’s’l head with the fire hose and hosed down the chain as it clinked up the hawse pipe one link at a time. Five people manned each of the red and green painted windlass bars and about 30 more stood by to lend a hand at heaving up our anchor one last time. At 0645 we had the starboard anchor clear of the water and were underway, bound for Lunenburg. We expect to arrive there around 2 PM.
