Companion to "The Call of the Running Tide", discusses the ship and defines many terms.
Section I, Next Section
Posted on Saturday, 21-Nov-98
Chapter One
"That way, please! No puking to windward!"
He leaned miserably over the rail, watching as the remains of what meager lunch he had managed to choke down disappeared into the Atlantic Ocean. And why did she make me go down to the low side? He wondered. She probably wanted me to fall overboard. Sadistic. Weakly, he made his way back to the quarter-deck, where the motion of the ship was least pronounced. The drawback, he noticed, was that everyone else on deck seemed to have collected there also. Several students were clustered around the helm, discussing their early impressions of the adventure they had embarked upon. They seemed perfectly healthy.
The mate who had virtually tackled him earlier stood on the high side, leaning comfortably against the rail and surveying the students of her watch. He examined her, trying to understand the rather unusual image she presented. Her dark hair was long and shiny, tied back in a practical but unremarkable ponytail. Her eyes were bright and observant as they flickered across the ship. She stood with her knees bent in the slightly bow-legged stance that he had noticed was characteristic of all schoonermen. She wore canvas pants, well splattered with tar, paint and unidentified grime, and the ever-present Helly Hansen jacket over a long sleeved t-shirt. Everything about her appearance spelled sailor. When she noticed his approach, she abandoned her perch and moved in his direction. Bow-legged though she seemed to be, she certainly achieved far more grace than he could manage on the pitching deck of the ship.
"Don't worry, it'll get better," she smiled sympathetically. "Do you want a cocktail?"
"A cocktail?" Here I am seasick and she's offering me a drink? Are they allowed to have alcohol aboard a sailboat full of college kids?
She smiled at his mistake. "An Air Force Cocktail. It's a seasickness remedy." He looked skeptical of her medical expertise. "It really does work. I used to get seasick too," she encouraged.
He assented, reasoning that he couldn't feel much worse than he already did. "They're in the doghouse," she informed him. Noticing his bewildered expression, she explained herself more clearly. "That's what we call the chart room. You know, the place where we navigate. The charts, GPS, radar, loran, and radios are all in there. You will learn all this vocabulary very quickly, I promise." She turned and walked smoothly to the entrance to the "doghouse;" he staggered unsteadily behind.
Once inside, she opened a drawer and selected two drug vials. "OK, now let me explain this to you. I'm going to give you two drugs. One is a "downer;" it will calm your stomach. The other is an "upper;" it will counteract the effect of the downer so you don't get drowsy. You have to let me know how you feel after you take them. Some people react more strongly to one than to the other. If you get drowsy we'll give you less of the downer next time. If you get hyper and jumpy, we'll give you less of the upper." He looked a little alarmed at the complexity of the remedy. She reassured him, "Don't worry. I lived on these things on my student cruise." He accepted the cocktail and she gave him her water bottle to swallow it with. "The other important thing about seasickness," she continued, "is that you keep drinking. If you get dehydrated you will only make yourself sicker. Do you have a water bottle?"
He nodded.
"I suggest you keep it with you, then. Drink as much as you possibly can. We have plenty of water." She added the last humorously, in hopes of lightening his mood, but he did not respond. Taking pity on his nausea, she offered another piece of advice. "When you feel sick, go abovedecks. If you can see the horizon it will make you feel better because you will have a reference point. It should get better in a few days."
He nodded once again, but said nothing. In truth, he was a little overwhelmed by her brash confidence, by the way she assumed command of the ship and of him without a second thought.
She tried one more time. "You know, I was aloft stowing the topsail yesterday when we did introductions. I'm Elizabeth Bennet." She offered him her hand.
"Dr. William Darcy." He took her hand to shake, but dropped it, surprised, after only a brief clasp. Her hands! He thought, revolted. They are like leather. Her entire hand is one big callus!
She decided that he was not inclined to be friendly at the moment. "I won't keep you in here any longer. You are starting to look a little green again and you need to keep that cocktail down long enough for it to take effect. Go out on the quarter-deck and try to enjoy our windy afternoon. It's great sailing."
"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Bennet," he replied coldly and turned to leave.
A spark of amusement came into her eyes. "Doctor Darcy," she called after him, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. He turned back to her. "You know, you will not be able to get more than 134 feet away from me for the next month and a half. Most people call me Elizabeth."
He nodded curtly, yet again, and left the doghouse.
Sheesh! Thought Elizabeth, I know that seasick people are not the best company in the world, but that guy is an ice cube! Too bad. He's a devastatingly good looking ice cube. Well, forget your nonexistent love life, girl, you've got students to teach!
Chapter Two
Darcy sat down wearily on the step that divided the quarter-deck from the main deck. Look at the horizon, he repeated over and over, bemoaning the fact that he was on a ship somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. He thought of the day that Charles had burst unexpected into his office, face wreathed in smiles, to describe his new job.
"Remember how I did a semester at the Longbourn School of the Ocean when I was an undergrad?" He had asked.
"Yes, I guess so."
"They hired me as one of their chief scientists!"
"Congratulations. What does that mean?"
"What does it sound like? I teach oceanography during the Shore Component, I help plan the cruise track so we can get the data we want, and then I'm in charge of the research on board."
"On board what? What's the Shore Component?"
Charles sighed in exasperation. He explained slowly and clearly, "LSO is an educational association that teaches semester-long programs to undergrads. The students spend six in Woods Hole, Massachusetts taking courses in Oceanography, Nautical Science and Maritime History. That's the Shore Component. Then they spend six weeks on one of their two tall ships learning to sail and doing practical oceanographic research. Each student has to plan a research project on land, write up the proposal, then do the data collection, analysis and write-up on board. As I said, I teach the oceanography, make sure we're going to the right places for the projects and make sure the research all goes according to plan."
"So you're teaching."
"The great thing about LSO is that I have publication rights to all of the data we collect. So I can teach and research all at once."
"And the students collect the data?"
"Of course, that's the point. They're supposed to learn-you know-The Scientific Method."
"Charles, you know the data can't be any good if you have a crowd of undergrads collecting it."
"Don't you have undergrad researchers working in your lab?"
"Yes, but I would never let them collect the data."
"William Darcy! Please do not tell me that you make your researchers wash glassware!"
Darcy did not reply.
"Well, my friend," Charles continued cheerfully, his momentary irritation forgotten, "you now have the opportunity to learn just what your poor students could be doing for you."
"Oh, and how is that?" Darcy's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Well, I'm going on their spring cruise that leaves in May, and they asked me to invite a visiting scientist to accompany the group."
Darcy groaned, knowing what was to come, "Charles-"
"Will, it would be perfect for you! Sailing with LSO was the most amazing experience I have ever had! You will love it. You can do research, teach the kids and learn to sail."
"So you want me to spend six weeks of my sabbatical on a sailboat with...how many college kids? Unlikely, Charles."
"Twenty-five students, plus ten crew members plus you makes thirty-six people. Will, this is my point exactly. Your sabbatical is coming up. You know you have to teach for some of it. Everyone loves your research, but everyone also knows that teaching is your weak point. LSO would be a perfect way to...well...enhance your people skills. And you'll be helping the students do research, which is your strong point anyway, so it shouldn't traumatize you too much. And, you can do your own research while you're at it, with twenty-five people to help you collect data, twenty-four hours a day. And you'll love the sailing, Will, you really will. It is incredible."
Darcy hid a smile, wondering how many more "ands" Charles could possibly string on to his glowing list of benefits. He thought it best to humor his friend and at least consider it. The thing that Darcy loved about his friend was his boundless curiosity and enthusiasm. It was not a characteristic that the two shared, but Darcy valued Charles' attitude nonetheless.
"All right, Charles, how long do I have to decide?"
"Oh, three days or so. Here is an LSO brochure for you to look at, and this is a description of the visiting scientist position."
"Three days? You expect me to decide what I'm going to do with six weeks of my life in three days? That is so typical of you, Charles."
"You'll do just fine, Will. I have faith in you." With a grin, Charles left the office. "I'll call you!" he yelled over his shoulder.
William sighed and put the brochure aside, redirecting his thoughts to the work before him. But his eyes kept straying back to the brochure.
And so, he found himself aboard the Pride of Austen wondering about the soundness of his reasons for accepting this position.
He knew Charles was right. Teaching was his weakness and he would be expected to devote some time to improving it. He was well respected as a researcher, but his student evaluations were less than stellar. He was generally considered to be an aloof and distant professor who, though he had much to give his students, was unwilling to apply himself to teaching them. He knew the reason for this of, course, was that he was not particularly interested in the teaching aspect of his job. His personality had never been suited to engaging a classroom full of kids, and he had never felt the need to improve his skills. Undergrads were simply an indispensable nuisance, characterized by a tendency to skip class, drink too much, and hand in papers late. But the University did not share his opinion and were never pleased by his unpopularity.
So he would have to teach, and Charles was right-LSO would be a good opportunity to do so. He would be forced to "bond" with the students, which would make the University happy. But six weeks on a ship? Was he prepared to put himself through that, he wondered? And when he read the material that Charles had given him, he discovered that he would be expected to stand watches with the rest of the students. He would not only be doing science, but navigating, steering, standing bow watch, handling sail, working in the engine room and even washing dishes. LSO believes that the combined experience of researching, living and working aboard a traditional sailing vessel is as important for you, the visiting scientist, as for the students with whom you will work, the description stated. In truth, this was the aspect of the program that intrigued him most. He had told himself he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't silence the voice inside of him that wondered what it would feel like to be at the wheel of a 134-foot sailing ship. Looking through the list of past visiting scientists, he had to admit that there were some names whose research was quite well respected. They must be getting some good data, anyway, he had rationalized. I could do something with pelagics. Distribution or something. And so he had taken Charles up on the offer.
A decision which he was now regretting.
Darcy sighed, and allowed his gaze to wander across the ship. There were still several students gathered at the helm. Further forward, he could see several students from the lab watch preparing for a sediment grab, or some such operation. They worked under the direction of an easy-tempered, attractive blonde woman. He remembered her as the first assistant scientist, but could not recall her name. Forward still, he saw Elizabeth beginning to teach students the names and functions of all the lines on board.
"Remember," he heard her say, "there are almost no ropes aboard a ship. With very few exceptions, they are referred to as lines. And a line is given another name depending on its function. Who knows what a halyard does?"
One of the students answered, "raises a sail."
"Good, so the line that raises the forestays'l, for example, would be the forestays'l halyard." She grasped the appropriate line.
Darcy eyed the rigging warily, wondering how Elizabeth could possibly imagine that the students could memorize what each vine of this rope jungle served for. I'm not sure if I could remember them all.
He caught Elizabeth's voice once again. "Now, see how the jt is higher than the jib, and the jib is higher than the forestays'l? The lines for the higher sails are always aft of the lines for the lower sails. I have a charming little mnemonic to help you with this one, taught to me by my own dear second mate from my student cruise. Just remember: up your aft." The students snickered. "Yeah, yeah, well you should meet the guy. But that's true of all the lines: halyards, downhauls and sheets. So it should make things easier for you."
Up your aft?? Darcy was disgusted. Charming indeed. I can't believe she just said that. I can't imagine saying something so tasteless to my students.
His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a rather unhappy looking student, carrying a water bottle in one hand and a stack of saltines in the other. She gave a weak grin at him when their eyes met. "You look something like I feel," she remarked.
Whether it was their shared plight or the friendly sympathy in her eyes, something moved him to try and be amiable. "Then I feel almost as sorry for you as I do for me," he replied dryly.
She sat slowly down beside him and read the expression on his face. "Let me guess. You are wondering what possessed you to step aboard this ship." His somewhat surprised look confirmed her assessment. "That has crossed my mind a few times also. But I'm still hoping that I'll get over this like everyone says I will. This is something of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I think, and I don't want to be miserable for it."
Darcy studied the girl before him. She certainly did not sound like she fit his image of the irresponsible, drunken undergrad. He wanted to hear more from her, but wondered how to probe for it. "So, uh, how did you end up here?" Great. Real subtle.
"Well, I'm an English Lit major at the College of Charleston. But I wanted to do something different in my junior year. C of C is affiliated with LSO, so I heard a lot about it, and my credits transfer really easily. I guess it's an adventure. A chance to learn something really new. And it's not just like taking a different subject at school. This is really a new life, seasickness and all. Want a saltine?"
"Well, we'll have to see whether my stomach wants one, but yes, thank you." Darcy was rather disarmed, not only by her sophisticated outlook, but by the unqualified camaraderie she offered. In his world of prestige-seekers and academic rivalries, he was rarely offered a saltine. The two sat in queasy silence, and Darcy's gaze drifted forward again, to where Elizabeth was still drilling her watch on the lines. She was the same way this morning, he realized. She wanted to help. I acted as if she was trying to poison me. One student answered something correctly and her face lit in a smile. Eyes flashing, she gave a cheer and held up her hands for a slap. She is beautiful. William! This last thought snapped him out of his reverie, and he scolded himself for thinking that of such a rough-and-tumble, unrefined person.
His companion shifted and addressed him, "I'm going on watch pretty soon, so I'm going to have to brave the belowdecks and get ready. I'm Lisa-Michelle, by the way. It was nice having someone to commiserate with." She extended her hand.
"Doc-" he stopped. "I'm William. Thanks for salvaging me from my foul mood. Good luck below."
He watched her as she headed for the midships companionway.
William Darcy, how did you get so jaded?
Chapter Three
"Hey Spring!" Jane called, "Lizzy and I are going out on the bowsprit, ok?"
The second mate looked up from where she was teaching her students lines. "Have fun. Let me know when you come in."
The two clipped their harnesses to the safety wire and climbed over the bow of the ship and onto the rope netting stretched below the bowsprit. Elizabeth flopped down on her back and sighed contentedly, her eyes roaming over the well-trimmed sails as they turned golden in the setting sun. Jane lay on her stomach, looking out over the ocean below her.
"So Lizzy, how was your first day watch?"
"Exhausting as always, but worse for the students. I'm just busy--they're bewildered!"
"Yeah I know, but they will learn soon, and you won't be in quite so much demand."
Elizabeth laughed. "As you scientists would say, our workload varies inversely with their learning curve, right? But how about you? How are you getting along with the great Charles Bingley?"
"Great so far. He's so friendly and laid back. I'm really glad he got the chief scientist position."
"Oh, right. Because he's friendly, right? Jane, are you sure you aren't glad because he's in your field?"
Jane grinned. "Hey, you asked how we were getting along."
"Uh huh. He's a hottie. You'd make a great team."
"Lizzy! You are terrible!" She swatted Elizabeth companionably on the shoulder.
"So what can you tell me about the ice man?"
"Ice man?" Jane asked.
"You know, Dr. William Darcy, visiting scientist," Elizabeth said in her most affected voice.
"Oh, he's a friend of Charlie's. He holds the Pemberley Chair for Ornithology at Cornell. Comes from a very wealthy family with a long history of giving to Cornell. People might say that he bought his way to his professorship, if it weren't for the fact that he's absolutely brilliant. Why do you ask--or don't I want to know?"
"No reason really. I gave him a cocktail and he didn't say a word to me that wasn't haughty and cold."
"Lizzy, come on. You were giving him a cocktail!"
"So?"
"So he was seasick!"
"I know, Jane, and I was trying to be nice and helpful and everything. It's just that he's...well...he called me Miss Bennet!"
Jane laughed, "Sounds like a first grade teacher, 'Miss Bennet! Is it almost recess?'"
"Yeah, either that or a debutante," Elizabeth giggled, "Miss Bennet, dah-ling."
When she finished laughing, Jane's face grew serious. "But Lizzy, even if you don't like him, you can't antagonize him. You have to live with each other for six weeks."
"I know, Jane. I promise to be a good girl. He can be as rude as he wants and I will simply keep doing my job. At the very most I will ignore him."
"I hope he won't be too-Oh! Lizzy, dolphins!"
Elizabeth squealed in excitement and flipped over, watching the dolphins below her through a gap in the ropes. They pumped their muscular tails and swerved back and forth, riding the ship's bow wake. "That looks like so much fun...I would love to keep them to ourselves, Jane, but the students haven't seen dolphins yet. I think we will have to share this time. Hey guys! Dolphins!" She shouted.
Suddenly a mass of excited faces was pressed together up at the bow, craning to get a better view of the latest new sight. Elizabeth smiled warmly, thinking for the thousandth time that she had the perfect job. We give them what they can never learn in a classroom. Awe.
Chapter Four
Okay, the important thing to understand here is that Elizabeth is right above William and Charles' heads.
The sun rose the next morning to find the Austen sailing under a cloudless sky and in considerably calmer seas, but equally as much wind, as in the previous afternoon.
Elizabeth came off dawn watch to a warm breakfast and a warm bunk, where she made up for a few hours of the sleep she had lost in rising at 0230 hours. By midmorning, however, she was awake again, determined to put some of her twelve hours off watch to good use. And so she found herself thirty feet above the deck on the course yard, replacing a cracked block. This was a rather good vantage point to observe the ship in that, unlike the seventy foot topsail yard, she could hear everyone as well as she could see them. Her presence, however, went unnoticed by the two figures below her. William Darcy and Charlie Bingley came out of the lab and leaned against the rail.
"You are feeling better already, aren't you, William?"
"Charles, it is not nearly so rough as yesterday afternoon."
"But you are getting accustomed to it. I am sure you are." William only shrugged in acquiescence, and Charlie continued, "And how do you like your shipmates, aren't they a wonderful group of people?"
"I don't believe I should go so far as to call a band of college kids a wonderful group of people, but I have met at least one who seemed civilized."
"Oh Will, you have a stick up your butt. I am awfully glad I don't share your outlook--it must be very lonely." Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the normally diplomatic Charlie's blunt evaluation of his friend. She was far too interested in this conversation to betray her presence just yet. Charlie continued, "At any rate, I can see that the students will need some more time to prove themselves to you. So students aside, tell me what you think of the crew. Surely you must have noticed what a wonderful group they are! My first assistant scientist is great--intelligent, dedicated, infinitely patient with the students."
Darcy raised an eyebrow and eyed his friend, "That's the blonde one, isn't it Charles?"
His friend nodded, "Jane Bennet."
"Ah hah. And what field is she in?"
"She did her masters thesis on nutrient limitation in oligotrophic systems."
"Right. Charles, in your list of Jane Bennet's virtues, are you sure you didn't forget "in your field" and "extremely good looking?"
"Well, of course my respect for her is increased by the fact that she had the sense to go into a worthwhile field, as opposed to someone who studies something ridiculous, like, say, birds."
Darcy laughed, "At least I can see birds, my friend. Why anyone would want to study nutrients in the absolute middle of the ocean I will never know."
Apparently their discussion was becoming too confrontational for Charlie, for he dropped his ribbing and picked up a new topic. "But Will, there is someone else on this ship who is a birder." Elizabeth shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation was taking. The fact that she was standing on a piece of rope did nothing to alleviate her desire to squirm, but restricted its execution considerably. Charlie continued, "Jane's sister, Elizabeth. And she is very much as attractive as Jane, although in a different way."
"Elizabeth the mate, you mean?"
"Well how many Elizabeth Bennets do you really suppose there are on this ship?"
"Really, Charles. I suppose she is pretty enough, but she is utterly without tact or manners. She is vulgar, her hands are like sandpaper, and she practically threw me across the ship yesterday." Discomfort forgotten, Elizabeth was again approaching amusement at the arrogance of this man. Glad to know I made as smashing a first impression on him as he did on me!
"Oh she did, did she? And what exactly were you doing?" Charlie demanded.
"Well, I was seasick...you know. I was going to this rail," he gestured to port, where they were standing, "and she tackled me and threw me over there," he waved to starboard.
Charles began to smile. "Will, which tack were we on?"
"Huh?"
"Which way was the boat heeling-you know, tilting?"
"Oh, this was the high side, so it was "heeling" that way," he gestured again to starboard.
"Uh huh. So. Same as right now. Will, do me a favor?"
"Sure, what?" Darcy sounded mystified.
Charlie turned his friend to face out over the rail. "Spit," he commanded. Elizabeth gripped the yard, holding back her laughter at what was to come.
"Spit? Why on earth...?"
"Just do it Will."
Darcy obeyed. As he watched, his spit ball flew from his mouth, came to a complete stop in the face of the oncoming wind, reversed direction and landed on his cheek, not two inches from its launch point.
"You see, Will," Charles pontificated, "a rule aboard these ships is never to be sick to windward--the side the wind is blowing over. If you spit--or anything else--to leeward, it will be blown away from you. If Elizabeth had not intercepted you, however, you might have had a rather unpleasant surprise yesterday. So in that respect you are somewhat indebted to her. As far as her hands go, you may find, when your own are raw and blistered, that your opinion of calluses changes somewhat. And I must admit to you that I have never known her to be vulgar, though I haven't spent a whole lot of time with her. But the point is, she is wonderful with students, loves her job more than almost anyone I have ever met, and, frankly, probably knows more about pelagic birds than you do."
"Charles, do not be ridiculous. How could she possibly help me in my research? She is a sailor. Does that not say enough?" Elizabeth's mouth dropped open, utterly amazed at the extent of his conceit and rudeness. She was also somewhat surprised a the steely tones with which Charlie replied.
"Will, if you believe for one moment that it does not take a considerable amount of intelligence to sail this ship, you are in for a surprise. I would also suggest that you begin to treat your shipmates with a little more respect than you are currently displaying. You need every one of them, particularly the deck crew, to get through the next six weeks happily and, I might add, safely."
Darcy was obviously annoyed at the lecture he had provoked from his friend. He turned to Charlie and said coldly, "You are welcome to fawn over your friend the assistant scientist if you wish, but do not expect me to do the same over her sister." With that, he turned stiffly and stalked away. Charlie shook his head as he watched his friend's irritable retreat, then shrugged and returned to the lab.
Elizabeth was long since finished with her work aloft, and quickly climbed down after Charlie had left. She was still shaking with silent laughter and desperately wished to share it with someone. She rejected Jane as her preliminary confidant, since she had not yet determined the import of Charlie's words regarding her sister. Deciding on the one person on board whose whereabouts could almost always be pinpointed, she turned and headed for the galley.
Chapter Five
The galley, as usual, was blazing hot. The diesel stove had been turned on at 0430h, and by now had reached cruising temperature-about 500 degrees. The steward was making potato-leek soup for lunch, and the assistant steward for the day was preparing morning snack.
Elizabeth stepped in slowly, almost delicately. "Hi Charlotte," she offered as her tentative greeting. No matter how close their friendship was, Elizabeth had enough experience to know that one must always approach a busy steward with care. The galley is the steward's domain and the steward's only. If well run, it is meticulously organized and ruled with military strictness. And no one, even the Captain, is above being thrown out at the first sign of hindering efficiency.
Charlotte ran a paragon of galleys. Normally it was certainly not a place to gather for gossip, but Elizabeth could often bend the rules. She and Charlotte had been watchmates on their student cruise, and close friends ever since. They had worked together as deckhands accumulating sea time until Charlotte decided not to take the test for a mate's license and began taking jobs as a steward. Elizabeth had never understood this decision and was always a little irked at her friend, because she knew that Charlotte had been happier working on deck than she was in the galley. However, she had for the most part given up the argument.
Charlotte looked up from her stewpot and smiled "Hey Lizzy B!"
"Lizzy B?"
"Yes, if you've noticed, there is one too many "Elizabeths" on board. I've decided to add initials. Or, I could just refer to you as Jack Tar and Liz M as Grease Monkey. So what brings you here, First Officer Bennet?" Charlotte noticed her friend shift a little when she changed the subject so abruptly.
Elizabeth made her attempt at nonchalance, "Oh, well, not much really. Wanted to make sure you guys didn't need any help."
Charlotte raised an eyebrow. She turned her attention to her assistant steward. "Is that snack all ready, Dawn?" She received a nod in reply. "You can go ahead and take it up on deck then. And take a break while you're up there. You can just come back down when it's gone, okay?"
"Thanks, Charlotte," Dawn gave a small smile and sighed. Elizabeth evaluated her as she left the galley. She suspected that the opportunity to cook for thirty-six people was not what had brought Dawn to LSO.
"She looks exhausted."
"Yeah, it's hard for the people who are assistant steward in the first few days. They haven't gotten used to the lack of sleep yet, and it's such a long day. Not a lot of chances to sit down. Plus, she hasn't said anything, but I think she may be a little queasy. If anything on this boat is going to make you seasick, it's the galley."
"Eeeh, tell me about it. I was so seasick when I was assistant steward on our cruise. Below all day, so hot, watching stuff slosh around in bowls, pots, sinks...makes me green to think about it. And you are such a nice steward compared to," Elizabeth made a vague gesture with her hand, "she gave me no pity at all."
"Lizzy, you mean you didn't like Killer Caroline? I'm shocked!" Charlotte laughed, "Remember how she used to yell if we didn't set the table her way?"
"And her way was so random! What ever happened to fork on the left, knife and spoon on the right?"
Charlotte laughed in a tone that dismissed the subject. Much as she loved reminiscing about their student cruise, they had discussed Caroline before and undoubtedly would do so again. She was more interested in what Elizabeth hadn't gotten to yet. "Okay, so why did you really come down here?"
Elizabeth sighed, eyes twinkling. "How do you read me so well Charlotte?"
"I know you, Elizabeth Bennet. You hate the galley. You never come down here. It's hot, stuffy, crowded, stuff sloshing around, generally bordering on chaos. Not a place to hang out if you can be aloft, or on the bowsprit, or...or just chatting on the quarterdeck." Charlotte began in a lively, playful voice, but faded into a tone of wistfulness that made Elizabeth narrow her eyes.
"Charlotte, you know you don't have to work in the galley," she said softly. "You are a sailor, not a cook. Why don't you work as one?"
Charlotte grabbed her spoon and stirred the stewpot with her back to Elizabeth. "Well, if you haven't noticed, I don't happen to have a license," she said flatly.
"Charlotte, that's ridiculous. You have the sea time. You have a ton of experience; you know everything you need to know. All you have to do is take the test. You'll get a license."
"Elizabeth, you know how I react to tests. I hate them. I'm terrified of them. I freak out and can't answer a single question. I would never pass it."
"So that's the whole reason, right there? You don't think you could pass, so you're not even going to try? So what happens if you do fail? Nothing. You've seen it once, you know what it's going to be like, you take it again. You get your license."
"Elizabeth, we've been through this before."
"But Charlotte, you hate your job. I know you don't admit it. You do a wonderful job of pretending, with all your jokes and smiles. But sometimes a little crack forms in that wall, and every time that happens, I see. I see that you are bored. And Charlotte, may I remind you that being a schoonerman is a life. If you are bored with your job, you are bored with your life. And that is a pitiable state. Especially for someone as capable as you are."
Charlotte sighed heavily and closed her eyes. Then she straightened herself, as if coming to a decision, and looked her friend in the eyes. "I didn't know when I should tell you this, Lizzy, but LSO offered me an office job, and I'm going to take it."
Elizabeth stared at her, stunned. "You? You are taking an office job? You, who always said you'd be a coal miner before you sat behind a desk?"
"That was on our student cruise, Lizzy. That was before I actually had to support myself. At least on shore I can leave my job and go home at night. Even if I hate it, I can get away from it. Here there is nothing for me but a bunk and a galley. Sleep and cook."
Elizabeth was somewhat subdued by Charlotte's coldly logical analysis of her life. The sparkle that she remembered was utterly gone. She looked around the galley in wonder. What have you done to her? Resigned, she simply asked, "Where are you working?" She would not have thought it possible for Charlotte to look any more defeated by life than she already did. And so she was astonished when the steward positively shrunk into a pitiful heap of person standing before an enormous stove. When she spoke, her eyes were on the floor and her voice could barely be heard over the hum of the stove's diesel engine.
"Admissions."
Elizabeth's head jerked back with a sharp intake of breath. When she spoke, it was fast and loud. Too loud. "What? Have you lost every ounce of self-respect you possessed? How could you possibly...I cannot believe you...you have the life you have always wanted within your grasp and you are too scared to take it. And so what do you do? You chain yourself to a stove and let it bake all the soul out of you. And when all the romance and joy has been systematically removed from your life, you sign yourself over to work for a penguin. So you can learn to flap and squawk all day long also! You are a coward, Charlotte Lucas."
There was silence for a few moments, and Charlotte lifted her gaze meet her friend's. Elizabeth's emotions quickly ran from anger to guilt as she saw in those eyes the sadness and the hurt she had inflicted.
"Elizabeth, I know that this is not easy for you to understand. You are right that Bill Collins is an idiot. "Penguin" is good also. I know he offered you a job once, and you laughed at him. I wish I could be in the position to laugh at him also, but I am not. By taking this job, I am already losing a dream. What I really don't want to do is lose a friend also."
"Oh Charlotte, I'm sorry. I should never have said those things to you. It's just that I want you to be happy. It's not fair that I should be so happy and you...I'm sorry."
"It's all right Lizzy. I understand. But do you think we could...not discuss this anymore?"
Elizabeth looked at the floor, so Charlotte continued, "So what did you come down here to tell me, anyway?"
"Oh, nothing really. Just some stupid little story about our friend the visiting scientist."
"Oh sure, so you come down here to my stinkin' hot galley, I kick out my assistant steward, and now you're not even going to tell me?"
Elizabeth realized that the last thing Charlotte needed was to dwell on their recent discussion. She smiled a little and began to recount her story. By the time she got through the spitting scene and on to his description of herself, they were laughing companionably once again.
"Lizzy, what the heck did you do to him to make him think you're vulgar?"
"That's what I can't figure out! I was trying so hard to be nice to him yesterday. I didn't say anything bad, I'm sure of it. And I'm not vulgar anyway, am I?"
"No, of course you're not. Well, I guess maybe most of us are a little more rough around the edges...or hands...than the Cornellians that he sees every day."
"But I am a Cornellian!"
"Yeah, that's the funny part. Lizzy the sailor in there with all those future doctors and lawyers."
"Charlotte, don't you start telling me that I'm a slacker for doing what I do."
"That bothered you that he said that, didn't it?"
Elizabeth sighed, "Yes, I guess it did. I don't really care what he thinks about my hands or my vulgarity or whatever, and I don't really care if he wants me to help him with birds, but yes, it does bother me that he has branded me as stupid without even talking to me."
Charlotte nodded sympathetically, but before she could reply, they heard steps coming down the midships companionway. A quick glance through the dirty dishes window revealed it to be the object of their discussion himself. Elizabeth grinned wickedly at Charlotte.
"Well Charlotte," she said loudly, "I would love to talk to you longer, but I need to go pumice my hands. Have to keep those calluses under control!" She stepped out of the galley, paused long enough to make eye contact with Darcy, then, with a nod, fled forward to her cabin where her laughter exploded as she swung into her bunk.
Got him! She thought. He looked like a fish!
Chapter Six
Darcy sighed as he reached for his ear protectors. He was assistant engineer that afternoon watch, and his head was spinning with amps, volts, oil pressures, exhaust temperatures and a thousand things that he had already forgotten. He had been following the engineer, a capable woman named Liz, around as she gave him a tour of "the insides." They were returning to the engine room after a trip to visit the "reefer" and freezer.
Before putting on her ear protectors, Liz paused outside the watertight door and recapped the information she had just given him. "So. We use the alternator to make AC power. The reefer and freezer charge their cold packs directly off that. But we also like to be able to store the electricity, because that way we only have to run the alternator for a few hours each day. So we have a rectifier that converts the AC into DC. The DC is stored in battery banks in the battery room. DC power is pretty dangerous-you can get shocked easily. So don't go in there unless I take you. Our appliances, of course, all run on AC current-just like in your house. So we have an inverter that turns the DC back into AC as we need it. Got it?"
Darcy's eyes were wide, and his mouth hung slightly open, "Uhhh...yeah...sure."
Liz looked at him doubtfully, then grinned and shrugged, "It's all right. You're smart. You'll figure it out once you get used to living here."
Now it was Darcy's turn to look doubtful. He wasn't sure he would ever get used to living aboard the Austen, and he certainly wasn't feeling very smart. In fact, he wondered if he'd ever felt so inept at anything before. He pushed these thoughts aside, however, as Liz turned to the engine room door.
"Put on your ears," she reminded him as she turned the big wheel that drew back the latch. They stepped into the blasting heat and the loud hum of the alternator. Liz shut the door behind her, and gestured to a binder sitting atop the tool chest. She leaned close to his ear and shouted, "This is the assistant engineer's manual. Everything I just told you is in here also. All you need to do this watch is hourly checks, and in two hours we'll shut down the alternator. Read up on how to do that beforehand, and try and find as many of the appropriate switches and gauges as you can so you can do as much as possible without my help. OK?" She held up her hand in a thumb's up signal. Darcy returned it, and Liz nodded and left the ER.
Darcy sighed again and peered suspiciously at all the unbelievable number of meters and gauges arranged throughout the room. They were labeled with terms he did not understand, in units he had never heard of. Each one had a number drawn on it in blue permanent marker. As if there aren't enough numbers already, they have to write more on there. He shook his head and, picking up the manual Liz had pointed out, turned for the door.
He found himself seated upon the quarterdeck without really having thought about his destination. As usual, it was also the most crowded spot. There were several students from the watches below seated aft of the helm, chatting quietly or writing in journals. Paula, his own watch mate, was discussing the difference between a tack and a gybe with several others. He listened to her explanation, trying to visualize the bow coming through the wind in a tack versus the stern coming through the wind in a gybe. He followed her until she began discussing the "center of effort" and the "center of lateral resistance." He had no idea what these terms represented, but the students seemed to understand well enough. Since when is sailing so complicated? That sounds like physics. He gave up on tacks and gybes and let his eye come to rest on a watchmate that he had met the on midwatch in lab the night before. She had introduced herself as Teg, and they had struck up a certain friendship based on the fact that counting zooplankton through a microscope was making both of them throw up. At the moment, however, Teg looked both healthy and rather salty as she stood beside the helm. As he watched, Ann stuck her head out of the doghouse, "Teg, we're going to need a course change to get to our next sampling station. Please come to zero-six-zero."
"Zero-six-zero, aye," Teg repeated the command and began to turn the wheel. Whoa. Darcy was somewhat taken aback by her professional response. How did she know to say that? She didn't seem to know any more about boats than I did last night. He felt like everyone else knew just a little more about this place than he did and he was always trying to catch up. How is it that all the students know what to do and what to say and what the "center of lateral resistance" is? He had yet to be on deck watch, and was still somewhat awed by the mystique and history associated with sailing a traditionally rigged ship. He felt like he was dipping his toes into the worlds of Melville and Conrad. Except of course, he reminded himself, looking at the binder in his lap, that that the Austen has an engine room to contend with.
Shaking his head, he opened the book before him. He flipped through a few pages, seeing diagrams upon diagrams of various parts of the Austen. A few were reasonably intelligible, such as the one showing the positions of the fresh water tanks. Others, however, seemed impossible to make sense out of; the one outlining the maze of pipes running throughout the ship resembled and Austen-shaped plate of spaghetti. His bemused page-turning was interrupted by the voice of the captain.
"Ah-hah. I spy a well worn blue binder. How is our visiting scientist faring as assistant engineer?"
Darcy fleetingly wondered if he should salute or something, before recalling that all the students were on a first name basis with their captain.
"Hello, Ann. Not very well, I fear."
"Hmmm... I detect frustration in that answer. Welcome aboard. Now what exactly is the problem?"
"Not really one thing in particular. Just the feeling that everyone but me knows what's going on around here."
Ann laughed. "And what makes you think that?"
"What is the "center of lateral resistance?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Because the students know and I don't."
Comprehension entered Ann's eyes. Competitive, aren't we, William Darcy? Aloud, she answered him, "William, there is something you need to remember about the students and about yourself. They have been in school for the past six weeks learning about oceanography and about nautical science. You, on the other hand, are a little more one-sided. You know the science already, but as far as sail theory goes you haven't had the chance to learn it yet. We know that--Paula knows it and she will help fill you in when you are on deck watch. And the other thing is, keep in mind that the students may seem to know more than they really do. They know what the center of lateral resistance is on paper. They can diagram the forces exerted on a heeling ship. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they can use that information to make the ship go. That is what the sea component is for."
Darcy was silent, looking at her expectantly.
Ann looked puzzled, then grinned. "The center of lateral resistance is the axis about which the ship pivots. Say for example a tugboat was to come and push against the starboard side of the bow. She would rotate about a point which is called the center of lateral resistance."
Darcy nodded, "And what does that have to do with tacking and gybing?"
Ann smiled again at his insistence. "Hang on. Let me go get Mr. Cotter Pin."
Darcy's brow furrowed as his eyes followed her into the doghouse. She soon returned, however, carrying a boat shaped piece of wood with rotating cotter pins that represented the Austen's sails and rudder. Darcy listened intently as she explained how the sails could be used to rotate the boat through the wind--one way for a tack, and the opposite for a gybe--simply by pulling them in or letting them out. He was intrigued. First by the fact that there did indeed appear to be more to sailing the Austen than met the eye. And then, having suspended his disbelief in order to accept Ann's explanations, by the fact that those little arrows that had meant so little to him as a physics student were indeed actual forces that could move this enormous ship. And then again by the consideration that the wind itself could move this ship at all.
Ann had one piece of advice left to offer him. "By the way, you should find that manual pretty easy to understand. The students know about the theory of a diesel engine, but they don't know any more about how to turn off the alternator than you do. And also, Liz M probably scared you into thinking you'll have to do it all yourself. She likes to do that to try and get people to take the initiative and learn your way around, but she will help you in the end. Good luck."
But Darcy did not turn back to the manual as Ann walked away. He was still deep in thought about the minor miracle of physics that he found himself living upon. I wonder why I didn't think about it before. He was reminded of the day when, as a small boy, he had come into his family home to announce his intentions of becoming a scientist. He had spent the afternoon by the pond, catching tadpoles, when he noticed one with little legs growing on either side of its tail. His father had explained to him before that the tadpoles in their pond would eventually become the toads that he would occasionally find in the surrounding woodlands. William had not really thought, though, about the transformation itself. There were tadpoles and there were toads, with a mysterious grey area in between. But on the day when he saw a tadpole becoming a toad he was fascinated. It was his discovery, his "proof" that the link existed, and he first came to realize that knowing and understanding something could make it far more amazing and miraculous than accepting it blindly. He remembered feeling the same way only a few years later, when, having read an explanation of how the Bernoulli Effect allows birds to fly, he went outside, lay on his back in a field and watched a hawk circling far above him. And now, on the deck of the Austen, he wondered when it was that he had last felt that way. How we forget to be amazed.
Chapter Seven
Bow watch. If Darcy were asked for a one word description, it would be introspective.. Of course, it seemed to him that there had been a considerable amount of introspection going on aboard the Austen, at least on his part. There were other ways to describe it.
Light. The weird greenish pinpricks of light that glowed for a second or two before fading back into the inky void of water. He imagined one microscopic organism releasing a burst of bioluminescent energy. And he imagined a million, or a million million, creating the glowing V that streamed to either side of the bow as the Austen cut through the water. And over his head. More stars than he had ever seen before. A million million stars, and one had a little rocky sphere circling it, and the little sphere had a vase expanse of water on it, an the water had a little boat upon it, and the boat had thirty-six people on it, and one of them was thinking about the stars.
Rhythm. The Austen pitched in the heavy ocean swell. He was no longer seasick. He anticipated each motion. His breathing fell into the pattern. The Austen climbed up the front of a swell, the bowsprit rising higher and higher against the backdrop of stars. He knew when she had reached the crest. That the bowsprit would climb no higher. He could feel it, that weightless moment, she hung. Then fell, plunged downwards more violently than the climb, the horizon and the black, engulfing ocean rushing up to meet her. And she would give a shudder at the bottom, struggling a little to reverse the motion, to release herself from the water that engulfed her bow. The direction would change again as she began to climb another. And, in spite of all the warring forces that he had been grilling Paula about--lift and drag, the righting arm and the heeling arm, the center of effort and, yes, the center of lateral resistance--in spite of all the physics that governed the Austen, she climbed the next wave the same way she did the last, and recovered from the plunge with just as much tenacity. She was an intriguing mixture of delicately balanced forces and rubber-ball resiliency. "She will stay afloat without your help," Paula had said, "the question is, will she sail?"
Sound. The deafening roar of the water as the Austen plunged through the swell faded into Darcy's unconscious, as background noise, or an element of that rhythm that had him breathing in time. What he heard were the birds. He did not know what they were, and in truth, he didn't really care. No, that's not true. I do care. But the field guide will wait. For now, they were the ghost-birds, the virtual-birds, existing only when they were observed. They flitted like bats through the glow of the Austen's running lights; green birds to starboard, red to port. Outside of these faint glows, they were nothing, nowhere, having only their disembodied voices to call to each other in an eerie spine-crawling cry.
And slowly Darcy became aware that he could see the ghost-birds for a little longer as they passed the lights. The ocean began to have a surface once more, and the bioluminescence was not as brilliant. And in one corner of the sky, the night had lost its blackness and the stars had dimmed. He smiled to himself. I am watching the dawn spread her fingertips of rose over the wine-dark sea. I suppose it looked the same then as it does to me now...
"William." A hand upon his shoulder. He had not heard anyone approach, and startled out of his reverie. It was a watchmate, Jimmy. "I'm here to relieve you."
Darcy stood up, bending stiffened knees experimentally for the trip back to the quarterdeck. He unclipped his harness from the forestay and began to turn away, but hesitated.
"Have a nice watch," he offered softly.
Jimmy had overheard his somewhat sarcastic remarks regarding the hour he would be expected to spend at the bow, looking for lonely pricks of light on the vast ocean. But his countenance displayed calm and his eyes were sincere. She nodded her thanks and returned, "Don't forget to watch the sun rise."
And he had seen it. His first sunrise on the Austen, his first sunrise at sea, was one he would never forget. Paula had brought him to the helm, shown him the compass binnacle, given him a course to steer by it, and explained to him how to acknowledge the orders she gave him. And the sun rose to find him, hip braced against the wheelbox and one hand upon a spoke, at the helm of the Pride of Austen.
Among the many things that Darcy learned on his first watch on deck was the discovery that coffee cups tend to gravitate to the quarterdeck in the early morning. The first few to poke sleepy heads out of the doghouse were those who did not stand watch and were awakened every morning for the first sitting of breakfast. They were the Captain, Chief Scientist and Engineer.
Liz came up the companionway first, looking cheerful and rested. She grinned and greeted the helmsman. "I love it when we have wind. Makes my job such a cinch. You know, I got seven hours of sleep last night? All in one chunk, and all during the night. That's a minor miracle."
Ann arrived next, clutching her coffee but looking observant as usual. Her eyes roamed across the ship and its elements, the sea and sky, constantly. "And an utter impossibility if you're the Captain," she added to Liz's comment.
Charles stumbled up the companionway five minutes later, disheveled and uncombed. But his eyes smiled as they always seemed to and he beamed his good mornings at everyone in sight. William was alerted to the next arrival when the beam became several lumens brighter, and the photons redirected, with the candelas skyrocketing in a certain direction.
Sure enough, a blonde head emerged from the doghouse scuttle. Jane and Elizabeth's watch would be relieving Mary Kate and Paula's at 0700h, and the ongoing watch was awakened for first sitting of breakfast. The mate followed closely on the scientist's heels, and surveyed the morning.
Elizabeth was pleased with the overall appearance of the day. She tallied up the weather conditions quickly and was satisfied with the result. The sky was cloudless and the low sun turned the faces and the sails a warm reddish color. The southerly breeze was brisk, about force 4, she judged, making for effective sailing with five sails currently set. Must be on the upper edge of a high. We will set the topsail once we get on watch. She frowned a little upon seeing Darcy at the helm. She liked to relax with her coffee cup on these kinds of mornings and didn't relish putting up with someone who looked down on her expertise and intelligence and seemed like something of a whiner, to boot. I wonder why he came on this trip, anyway? Doesn't seem like the type. Can't wait 'till he's dish dog. Probably never put sponge to plate in his life, much less thirty-six of everything. When he's on my watch I will make him scrub. The chem head will be his domain every dawn cleanup. She smiled to herself and sat down on the mainsheet winch to enjoy the morning.
Jane, on the other hand, had no such compunctions and entered directly into a conversation with Charlie and William. Elizabeth for the most part ignored them. She had noticed that, while Jane and Charlie seemed to enjoy their conversations very much, they were bordering on inaccessible to virtually anyone else, since they usually dealt with such topics as oligotrophy and renitrification. So she was somewhat surprised when she heard her sister call her name.
"Elizabeth, you are our resident bird expert. Can't you help William out with what he will be seeing out here?"
Elizabeth examined her sister's sweetly innocent face and knew that she was simply trying to make conversation. Charlie appeared somewhat alarmed, as if he had been backed into an uncomfortable situation like a cornered rabbit. Her eyes rested on William. He was regarding her blandly, with expressionless eyes. He gestured to the helm, "Go ahead; you have a captive audience." He had meant it as a joke--he was perfectly prepared to let her say her piece. After all, a sailor could not do too much worse that one of his drunken undergrads. In fact, he rather enjoyed watching her speak. He had noticed at lunch the day before that her expressive eyes danced when she discussed something she enjoyed.
But right now, the eyes glared. I can't believe he would be that rude to my face! Well, Doctor Darcy, we'll see what I can do with your request.
She took a deep breath, searching for the ability to smile innocently to the three of them. Finding it, she began. "The birds we see offshore are all Procellariformes--true seabirds that expel salt through tubes above their bill. The two most common are the Greater Shearwaters--there are some sitting on the water over there--and Wilson's Storm Petrels. Those are the small dark ones with white throat patches that look like swallows during the day and bats at night." She noticed that Darcy shifted slightly at this and seemed to devote somewhat more attention to her. She wondered why that particular observation had caught his attention. It certainly wasn't very scientific. She continued, "Also, Northern Fulmars are pretty common--they are colored just like gulls but have the wingshape of a seabird. When you see a big raft of Greater Shearwaters on the water you can usually pick out a few Sooty Shearwaters among them. They are shaped exactly the same but are dark brownish-grey all over. Maybe once or twice a cruise we will see Gannets, but not very often. Near shore, of course, are many different Gulls, but I'm not very good with them. And up north we sometimes see Atlantic Puffins. That's pretty special."
Elizabeth finished off her list and tried to gauge the impression she had made. She generally did not try to flaunt her education or intelligence, but for some reason he drove her to compete. It's because he scorns me, she told herself. She could not resist adding some actual biology to her avian grocery list. "I think the most interesting are the Storm Petrels. They are so different from the other seabirds. If you watch most seabirds fly--look at those Shearwaters over there--you notice that they are gliders. Their wings have very high aspect ratios. Long, skinny wings that produce lots of lift but not much maneuverability. They rarely flap, because they don't have to--so they are very energy efficient. But Storm Petrels, they have much shorter, more maneuverable wings. They are great acrobats, but they have to flap constantly. And I almost never see them sitting on the water. They are always in flight. I wonder how they maintain their energy requirement out here on the open ocean." Elizabeth paused, "I also love their call. You hear it at night; it's very eerie."
When she looked up, she saw that William was staring at her intently. But she could not read the thoughts behind his immutable features.
Chapter Eight
Author's Note: "jt" is slang-talk for "jib topsail."
"Mark, we need to set the jt. Do you want to call it?" Elizabeth stood on the quarterdeck overseeing her watch. They had been underway for just over a week now, and the students were becoming more and more capable. She loved this time, when they were just beginning to gain the confidence and skills to lead their watchmates. She usually chose one of the more outgoing and adventurous students to begin leading shipboard procedures, allowing the less confident members to get used to the idea before being called upon themselves. Mark seemed a likely choice, and she was rewarded by an enthusiastic smile.
"Sure! I'd love to."
"I'll take the helm for you. That way you'll have your whole watch to help."
"Okay. Zero-seven-five."
"Zero-seven-five, aye."
Mark went over a few of the details of the procedure before calling the watch together. "Hands to set the jt! We need two hands with harnesses on to lay out on the bowsprit and take the sail stops off." Two volunteers were quickly obtained, and the watch moved forward to handle the sail.
Elizabeth was left on the quarterdeck in the company of her sister and Charlie Bingley. A moment's attention revealed that their conversation was one of the kind that had become so typical for the two of them. Scientific. Elizabeth heard several big words that she knew she would once-upon-a-time have been able to define and swiftly lost interest. Sailing must be turning my brain into mush, she thought, but discarded the notion. Not really, I just don't have to think about biogeneous sedimentation rates anymore. I can't believe Jane can look that enthralled with the conversation. Something in her last thought made her stop. She regarded the pair closely, not paying attention to the science this time. Her sister's eyes flashed with energy, and, after some comment by Charlie, they shared a smile that crackled with intensity.
What on earth is going on here? Elizabeth thought with a shock. She forced herself to turn at least some of her attention to her watch, who had removed the sail stops from the jt and were moving to the appropriate lines. Her thoughts whirled as she listened to the call-and-response pattern between Mark and the rest of the watch.
"Ready on your jt halyard?"
"Ready on the halyard!"
I have never seen Jane look that animated about anything before, even science.
"Ready on your jt downhaul?"
"Ready on the downhaul!"
She is normally so calm and serene about everything. Nothing ruffles her, or excites her, for that matter.
"Ready on your sheets?"
"Ready on port sheet!" "Ready on starboard sheet!" Two voices came simultaneously.
And Charlie looks totally smitten.
"Haul away your halyard, slack away your downhaul!"
"Hauling the halyard!" "Slacking the downhaul!"
Doesn't seem quite so surprising from him, though. Except for the fact that they're...here!
"Tend your working sheet!"
"Tend the sheet, aye!"
Elizabeth was glad that Mark was coping well with the task she had assigned him, since she had very little attention for it herself. She was also glad that they were almost finished. Mark directed two hands to the jigger and they used its mechanical advantage to haul the sail up the last foot or so. Then they trimmed the working sheet so that the sail slotted effectively with the others, and the procedure was finished.
"Okay, coil and hang!" Mark finished.
As the students busied themselves with their lines, their watch mate was left to her thoughts. Elizabeth did not believe in shipboard romances. In all the cruises she'd done with LSO and elsewhere, she had never seen it happen. She had often wondered why, with twenty-five teenagers and early twenty-somethings aboard, it was not a common occurrence. For an answer, she could only think back to her own student cruise, and the dynamics of her student group. On the shore component, there had been a few pairs whom the rest of the group had marked as possible couples, but a very little time on the ship had turned them into something so near siblings that the potential for any other relationship was swiftly forgotten. Like me and Rich. She grinned as she thought of one of her favorite shipmates. Early on in the shore component there had been a certain amount of chemistry between them, but even before they stepped aboard the ship it had become a deep and long-standing friendship. They still kept in contact, although their respective career paths prevented it from being particularly regular. Rich had joined the Coast Guard and had found his niche as an officer aboard the training barque Eagle. To quote the captain of their student cruise, they both "caught the schooner bug" while on LSO. They both followed this new-found interest into a career. And they were both sworn single. Love was not something that fit into either of their lives at present, and they would jokingly call their motto to one another with a laugh and a high five. "No obligations!"
Elizabeth's life was one of motion and change. She had very few ties on shore to claim her responsibility and time. She did not have a home, since she would rarely inhabit it if she did, and, when ashore, lived in large part out of her Suburban. She kept a sleeping bag in the back, and if she needed a place to stay, she often did little more than flatten out the rear seats and stretch out in a makeshift bed. It was not an arrangement that she would wish to spend a great deal of time in, but since she generally only spent enough time ashore to find her next ship, she was perfectly happy with the simplicity of her scheme.
Her parents, certainly, were always more than happy to put her up, but she tried to limit her familial visits to a level which would not threaten the patience she found so essential to her job. She enjoyed spending time with her father, who, though he could be counted upon to tease her lightly about the irony he found in the fact that his most intelligent daughter had become a sailor, supported the choice she had made with regards to her life. Her mother, on the other hand, could be counted upon to alternate between ear-splitting bouts of scolding for not having found a husband, not throwing herself in the path of enough rich bachelors, having a man's job, etc., and fits of agony over the inevitable fate of her two eldest daughters--generally involving gruesome death at sea. She always blamed Elizabeth for having tempted Jane into the salty life as well, since Elizabeth had first participated in LSO and her excited descriptions had convinced her elder sister to set sail in the summer after she graduated from college. Her father was entirely useless in her defense against her mother, preferring as he did to laugh at the ridiculous antics of his wife.
Perhaps it was the lack of felicity in her parents marriage that put Elizabeth off the idea of love in general, but for whatever reason, she had certainly never made it one of her concerns in life. She had graduated from Cornell with a bachelor's degree in biology, but, instead of pursuing research or medical school as might be expected of an Ivy League graduate, she began accumulating sea time as a deckhand aboard tall ships. Eventually she acquired a mate's license, and, later, a captain's license for inland and coastal cruises. She spent a great deal of time as captain of several day-sailing schooners. She enjoyed the responsibility that being the commanding officer involved, though she missed the bluewater passages that long, offshore cruises offered. An offshore license required more seatime as a mate on cruises such as the one aboard Austen. Her ultimate object was to become a captain for LSO, which, in her admittedly biased opinion, was the best sail-training program out there. Despite her penchant for sailing, Elizabeth had been a biology major for a reason. She was a scientist at heart. She loved the puzzle, the challenge of understanding something. She loved to pick something apart and look at it on a microscopic scale, then put it all back together and look at it from afar, as a system, with its polished and smoothly functioning surface giving little indication of its complex makeup. She loved the way LSO combined sailing with science and even history and literature to give a deep and comprehensive understanding of the sea. She loved the cooperation between the two groups: that the scientists loved to sail and the sailors cared about the science. And she loved to teach; to pass on her fascination with the sea to others. She longed for the day when, as captain, she would teach the Nautical Science course on shore and then take her students to sea to show them why it all mattered.
But Jane, Elizabeth considered, probably did not share exactly her sister's attitude. As much as she loved going to sea, she had opted for a more secure life than the footloose one her sister led. Jane was a traditionalist. She had gone to graduate school after college and received a Masters in marine science. Afterwards she had signed a long-term contract with LSO and shared a house in Woods Hole with several of her colleges. She spent part of her time at sea as an assistant scientist and the balance ashore working on the data that LSO collected in such abundance. Elizabeth assumed that when a suitable project presented itself Jane would go on to get a doctorate. Whether or not she would at that point apply to become a chief scientist with LSO and continue her interrupted lifestyle, Elizabeth was not certain. She knew her sister enjoyed her cruises at sea, but she wondered if Jane would not prefer to adopt a more sedentary lifestyle ashore-one including a house, back yard, dog, and...spouse (Elizabeth even thought the word delicately, as if it might have spines). Though Elizabeth foresaw herself as a sailor for the long run, she suspected that sea life was simply a particularly interesting stop along the road for her sister.
The result of these ruminations was to make Elizabeth even more curious as to just what was going on between her sister and the chief scientist. She could not help but wonder at the logistics of a romance aboard a crowded sailing ship. They certainly had the advantage of proximity, but on the other hand, their chances of being alone for more than thirty seconds within the next five weeks were effectively nil. And she wondered how a relationship between an assistant scientist and the chief scientist would affect the shipboard dynamic of the lab watch. And she wondered if anyone else had noticed anything unusual.