Date: 15 May 2024
Sailing from: St. Helena
Bound towards: Grenada, West Indies
Noon position: 07°55.9’N 055°31.8′ W
Course: NW 1/2 N
Speed: 6.7 knots
Wind force and direction: Force 3 ENE
Seas/swell: 3m E
Barometer: 1016
Sky: 8/8 st, ns
Water temperature: 81.5°F
Distance made good in 24 hours: 163nm
Passage log: 3,630nm
Voyage log: 26,879nm
Distance to next port: 449nm
Remarks by guest author, Amelia: Another beautiful, grey, put-your-wet-shorts-back-on day here on barque Picton Castle. The 12-4 watch is certified chillin’ as always, if your definition of chillin’ is fiddling around with rain-swollen lines and foolishly being allowed to write the “day’s run.” Lead Seaman Edmund unfouled the starboard fore t’gallant sheet, biceps bulging. The rest of the watch could not linger in awe to witness the impeccable grace and super seamanship of Edmund as they were busy setting the outer jib. Fortunately the rain came to cool everybody down.
The rain, a main character all its own these days, affects much of the day’s work. The natural fibre lines need to be slacked as they shrink in the rain, and then slacked out as they dry. Our poor Bosun has little bossing around to do, as much of the day is taken up by standing-by for sail handling in the rainy squalls.
It is taking much effort on the part of your dear daily run author to not dedicate much more space and time to the lethal congeniality of lead seaman Edmund who definitely did not asked to be profusely included in this, the “day’s run” of the Barque Picton Castle. At this very moment he is clewing up the foresail, a vision in his blue t-shirt.
There is a thin strip of blue sky on the horizon. The drizzle of the last couple hours has ceased. Next to no wind, a force one, though still pushing along at three knots, which wouldn’t be so bad except we’re used to making a neck breaking seven.
The Captain has instructed me to relax as I write this, to “abandon the idea of personal pride of authorship” as this is not “a Shakespearean sonnet.” I am finding this difficult. I was awed and terrified when watch officer Spring suggested that I, self-proclaimed Knuckle Dragging Thick Skulled Deck Hand, might be allowed to write today’s “day’s run”. The power has gone to my head. My fingers are tiny mallets banging these words out to you adoring friends, family and fans of the barque Picton Castle and her crew. On behalf of us all I wish you a wonderful Wednesday (is it even Wednesday? I have lost track) that is hopefully less soggy than ours.