Usually very few voices are heard on B watch night shifts. The lookout stands on the bow or midships solitarily searching the horizon for the first pinpoint of light that signals a vessel. The helmsman/ woman keeps Amistad on course. A third deckhand waits to do a boat check where they sneak around the bowels of vessel, making sure everything is safe while crew members sleep. Tonight the moon was full, illuminating all the crew, lines, and rig. We were rolling enough to toss all of Haley's clothes out of her bunk onto the Main Salon sole. The library and poster board fell out of the starboard cubby. I recovered 1 egg carton, 3 mugs, and a box of crackers from the hot stovetop.
The rolling of the ship created a symphony of ship sounds, accentuated by the silent night. There is the usual bubbling of water and breaking of waves. The wood hull creaked with each roll. In the galley, silverware and pots and pans clanged noisily back and forth. The sails were their own rhythm section. The stays'l sheet blocks banged loudly on the brass vent. Canvas roared from port to midships with each roll as wind emptied from the sails. Mike spent part of the watch searching for the source of sounds and trying to silence them for the benefit of exhausted shipmates.
Happy Thanksgiving! I miss you mom, dad, Melanie, Aunt Eileen, Uncle Gerry, Sara, and Allison!

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