Free LC 04 - Skeleton Crew by Beverly Connor

How was
your evening?"
    "Uneventful. We had pizza and watched a pirate movie. The
one where Geena Davis is the pirate."
    "Keeping with the theme of the site, eh?" Lindsay murmured,
drifting back to her reading.
    "Yeah, we're making paper hats and wooden swords tomorrow
evening. Have you read the journal yet?" asked Bobbie.
    "I'm doing it now."
    "How is it?"
    "Fascinating."

     

Chapter 9
A'Passenger's 'Diary: Part II
    Froin a voyage on the Spanish galleon
'Estrella de fspai a c. 155$
    Iranslated by .Harper Latham
    IF LUISA HAD a gown like the night sky I see from this ship, made
from the blackest of silk from the Orient, scattered by the hand of
God with cut diamonds from Africa, a ruby here, an emerald there,
perhaps a sapphire or two and one giant pearl, what glorious raiment she would have-and-what sweet disposition.
    But if Luisa had a sweet disposition, would I be on this wretched
ship on this wonderful journey? I don't know.
    I've found various places on the ship where I can observe and
not get in the way of the crew performing the ceaseless repetition
of activities required to sail the ship. (The ship is a mistress who
must be constantly pampered and attended to or she can surely
cause much misery.) For many tasks, success depends on the men
working in unity. The community of seafarers have devised an
ingenious way of working in unison without having to look at one
another. They sing. Sing! I am quite amazed. Their voices cannot
be said to bring to mind a heavenly chorus, but it is not quality of
voice or the melody that is important, but the rhythm. And there
is a song for every task.
    The first leg of our journey has been very difficult. All of us, even
the crew to one degree or another, became seasick until we got
used to the constant rocking of the ship. It is with pride that I write
that I was one of the least affected. The soldiers bound for Havana
are not good sailors and spend much of the time with their heads bowed over the railings of the weather deck, emptying their stomach, and cursing the real sailors for wretches.

    Father Hernando left his bed and joined us for meat for the first
time in several days. He did not look hale, but the stew of salted
pork seemed to sit well in his innards-which I took from the
retching sounds coming from his quarters have been in no better
shape than the ship's. I pity Carlos and Jose who share quarters
with him.
    We stopped at the Fortunate Isles this morning, anchoring in a
quiet bay where the water was a wonderful blue. If I watched
closely I could see the fish swimming near the ship.
    The weather was fair for the first time since the voyage started
and I had a clear view of the high, gently rounded mountains and
distant green foliage. It was a place I would like to have visited, but
the respite was to be brief, so I satisfied myself with breathing in
the air and watching the scenery. It felt good.
    Two boats rowed out to us. One contained large crates. The
other carried two passengers. One, a man of wealth and authority,
judging by his clothes and bearing, but I could not discern his
nationality. The other man took his heritage from the Orient. He
took great interest, as did his captain, with the loading of the crates.
    We did not linger at the islands. As soon as the crates, fresh
water, and firewood were loaded, the captain gave the order and
the capstan rhythm began. The capstan is like a large wheel with a
hub, six spokes, but no rim. The messenger rope-a smaller rope
that is connected to the rather large anchor rope-is wound
around the hub. The chanteyman, as the singer is called, starts a
song and the sailors, four to a spoke, heave on the beat and turn
the wheel. Thus one anchor after another is raised from the depths.
    The pilot Bellisaro praises God and shouts directions to the
crew. They scramble over the masts and yardarms with the mastery of squirrels scurrying over tree branches. They pull ropes and
turn yardarms