The wind has dropped out as forecast, so we are making progress along the Rhumb Line, which is a straight line between us and our destination. For the last two days we've basically been zigzagging back and forth, covering ground but getting nowhere. The most hopeful forecast is that the wind will go into the E, NE, and maybe even NW, which would be lovely. We've been listening to the machinery for days now, and it would be "brilliant" to do some sailing. As long as we don't get a headwind or very rough seas we do have enough fuel to make Lisbon without stopping, at our most economical speed, which is about 5.5 knots running on one engine. Lisbon is 275 miles away. This doesn't bother me personally, because after years of working on tugboats I'm used to the world going by at six knots. You just keep tugging away at it, and eventually you get there. A voyage from New York to Honduras and back at that speed begins to seem like a life's work-maybe when you get home people won't remember your name, or only vaguely. Children will have grown up and left home. In my particular case on Amistad, one of my children is living up in the focsle, sailing as a deckhand. He seems less child-like every time I encounter him on deck. Certainly he's gotten bigger.
There seems to be growth going on among all the students. They've learned where things are, and how to handle themselves on deck. Some of the protective hard-coat of flippant attitude has been worn away, allowing them to see out, and maybe us to see in.
Yesterday the sea was running very high, waves like moving hillocks obscuring the horizon as they swept along, heaving us up, then dropping us into a hole in the ocean on the other side. The sky was solid overcast, streaming past in a wind that pushed at you just standing there.
I finally said to them "take five minutes and just look at the ocean. Look at this corner of the world. You may never see this again in your life." Maybe they looked, maybe not. Maybe it doesn't matter. The ocean's presence is so strong that you might look away, but you can't ignore it.
 

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