Ship's Diary: On Board the Pride of Baltimore

The application to become a working guest crew member on the Pride of Baltimore II asked, "Do you have experience on the water (small boats, military, yachting, racing, or training ships)?" Hmmm, no, no, no, no, no, I thought, and then wrote "canoeing."

The topsail schooner, which boasts 10,442 square feet of sails, would travel from Miami to Charleston for the Tall Ships Festival. The voyage was scheduled to take four to five days.

Captain Jan Miles called after receiving my application to make sure I knew what I was "getting into."

"I'm ready to work," I said, and he invited me aboard.

Friday, May 11

23:44 hours

I was frantic when I stepped on board the Pride of Baltimore II at about 20:45 hours, only 15 minutes before I had to be there. I'd flown into Miami two hours prior, but my luggage had not, so I took a taxi to Kmart to grab some necessities. Neither I, nor a handful of sales associates, could find two items I was told to bring: seasick medicine and work gloves. With the taxi's meter running outside, I paid for what I had found and left.

On deck I met Laura "Lulu" Cavender, the cook. She spoke warmly and quietly as she took my plastic bags, and I felt my heart rate slow. She introduced me to the two other guest crew members, Tom and Dorinda Morpeth (who own their own small sailboat), before leading me down a ladder to the main saloon. Books about sailing lined the walls, snug behind a 3-inch-tall retainer.

Crew members filtered in from their last night out on the town. Everyone, including Captain Dave Bradley, was barefoot. And young. The schooner currently has 10 crew members plus two captains who alternate voyages.

Ryan Graham, bosun and third watch officer, gave a tour of the ship. On deck, while leaning on the railing, he talked about the Pride of Baltimore II like he was in love. The ship sails really well in light and heavy seas, he said. "It's rare that you find something so pretty that works so well," he said.

Before turning in, I stood on the schooner's deck and watched cars whiz by on a concrete bridge lit in fuchsia. Skyscrapers towered over us, and party boats charged past, blasting dance music. I can still hear them in my cabin, along with the water splashing sounds they're creating on the side of the ship. I don't know the ship well, but it seems out of place. I'm looking forward to getting on the open sea.

Saturday, May 12

16:37 hours

Wake-up call was at 07:20. We were on deck close to 08:00, and the orders started immediately. The guest crew followed on the heels of the regular crew, trying to figure out what exactly we were supposed to be doing.

We moved fenders (not buoys) from the outside of the ship to the fore to store and learned to make masthead coils and fake lines on the deck in swirling patterns. I never looked up - we were all working so hard - until I heard a voice from outside the boat.

"You can't get out. It's closed," yelled a man in a Fish and Wildlife State Law Enforcement boat. Two cruise ships were taking on fuel ahead of us, and we couldn't pass them for security reasons. They would be finished by 6 p.m., he said.

The Coast Guard had been issuing notices of the closure on the hour every hour. But our radio was on standby while we were moored.

We powered back to the graffitied dock and moored again. More fenders, more mooring lines, more chaffing gear.

And then we got good news. The ship's office in Baltimore had filled out the necessary paperwork, and the Coast Guard radioed to tell us we were granted access through the security zone. We left the port again, this time for good.

Work intensified as we began to set the sails. Phrases like "Hands to the braces starboard side haul" left me scratching my head. I knew I should be somewhere on the right side of the 157-foot schooner, but that was all.

A deckhand told me to grab the line she and several others were holding. We were to run forward with the line, turn abruptly and pull with all our might. I did it without knowing our goal. But when I turned around, there was the foresail, our first sail, outstretched, beautiful. We raised eight more sails, pulling in unison line after line.

First blister noticed at 11:26.

In the afternoon, with very light winds, we raised the stunsail, much to the delight of the crew members. Second mate Michael Fiorentino said it hasn't been up since 2004.

"I wonder if the Virginia will put up her stunsail on the way into Charleston," he yelled sarcastically from aft, to which the crew laughed. The Virginia, their friendly rival, doesn't even have a stunsail.

We took the small boat out to see the Pride with nearly all its sails flying. The ship looked so different from the stripped down version I had walked onto last night. It looked massive, complex and powerful. Deckhand Alison Dodge screamed in excitement in between snapping photos. Graham whistled at the schooner in admiration.

When the motor on the small boat suddenly stopped, we stopped gawking. Graham looked worried as he pulled on the starter rope to no avail. Then he noticed I'd knocked the gas line out by sitting on it. Another moment of boating brilliance.

Sunday, May 13

00:40

I grasped the smooth spokes of the helm for the first time about an hour ago during my first shift standing watch. I was instructed to keep the Pride going at about 100 degrees, but it was hard to keep the ship on course. My eyes were glued to the floating compass, glowing red in the night, but I kept overcompensating. My watch officer, Fiorentino, and two watchmates, Sarah Whittam and Shelly Colantonio, offered tips from close by. All three are in their 20s, college grads who discovered sailing in recent years. Whittam boasts being the only crew member from Maryland. Both captains live there as well.

We perform boat checks every hour, which include checking bilges for excess water and pumping them if necessary; checking the status of the engines, battery and generator in the extremely hot engine room; and, my favorite part, recording the direction of the sea and the wind, the course ordered and the course steered, the barometer reading and cloud cover. We also write down the GPS reading of our latitude and longitude, and plot our location on a chart. Since we left this morning (and then left again), we've come 78 nautical miles.

The crew is divided into three watches. B watch is mostly on deck from 0800 to 1200 and 2000 to 2400. After each four-hour on-shift is a four-hour off shift (in which we are advised to sleep) and a four-hour standby shift (in which we can try to sleep but are likely to be woken up to work).

Officially seasick at 00:17.

12:48

This morning I climbed aloft to get a look at the Pride from above. My legs shook as I ascended; the spaces for my feet got smaller and smaller, and the higher up I went, the more I realized I was relying on my strength alone to keep from falling onto the deck or into the ocean. I clipped my harness into an eyelet on the mast. Several feet below me, Whittam and Colantonio brought in the stunsail boom since we probably won't be using it anymore this trip. I took a moment to check out the scenery - tiny crew members at the helm, a small boat in the distance, the V of white water Pride created as it slipped through the sea. I was amazingly comfortable so high in the air. When I looked back at the deckhands, they had coiled their lines and secured them.

Also this morning we recoiled the lines, which must be done every day. When the deck is rinsed (to clean it and keep the wood swollen), the coils are picked up and hung on pins temporarily. We polished all the brass on deck and nipped the sails too.

Total blisters: 5

Monday, May 14

00:18

Evening watch was calm. Stars filled the sky on the starboard side, and lightning flashed far in the distance on the port side. Our ordered course was full and by, the wind was steady, and the Pride was easier to manipulate. It was cold enough to warrant long sleeves and pants for the first time. We drank Earl Grey tea and ate cookies when we weren't at the helm or doing boat checks.

We've come 365 nautical miles and are on the edge of the Gulf Stream. I'm hoping for some solid sleep before the seas get rougher.

05:50

Just woke up from the bouncing and creaking from the Pride's bow crashing into the water again and again. Worried we were in horrible weather, I decided to see if I'd missed an "all hands on deck" call. We were heeling so much to the port side I had to pull myself up out of my bunk. I inched along the wall of the saloon, reached for the ladder and swung myself onto the first step. But when I stuck my head out of the hatch on deck, there was no rain or flurry of sailors. I crept toward the three crew members on watch, clinging to the rail, and announced my presence in the darkness. When I told them I'd been worried about the conditions, engineer Brendan Meagher said, "This is perfect! This is the kind of sailing that makes you (expletive) smile!" He noted we were heeling 18 degrees.

I sat down to keep from falling and noticed water rushing onto the deck.

"We're 100 miles offshore!" first mate Matt Glenn said, adding it was the furthest we'd been from land during the trip.

Back in the saloon, the mugs are all swaying on their hooks. A plastic tub of coriander just jumped from the spice cabinet and raced about seven feet down the galley's counter before stopping at a box of condiments. I cannot believe this is perfect sailing.

13:59

Today is the anniversary of the sinking of the original Pride of Baltimore. On deck, Fiorentino said a few words and reminded the crew of "the torch we bear" before passing around a bottle of rum. After we each had a swig, Captain Bradley poured a bit into the ocean for Neptune, king of the sea, and then a bit more to honor the captain and three crew members who drowned when the ship hit a squall off the coast of Puerto Rico in 1986. Then he chucked the bottle into the Atlantic.

The ship is still heeling so much it is impossible to stand up without holding on to something. The port side is still getting doused with saltwater regularly, and there's a new leak in the deckhands' cabin. Right now Colantonio is asleep in her foul weather gear in her soaked bunk. We've spent a lot of time pumping water out of the bilges and trying to keep the floor below deck somewhat dry so no one slips.

Multiple crew members joined B watch on deck so they could get sick over the side. They weren't extremely talkative, but we joked it was a bit more like a party than usual.

The waves are 8 to 10 feet high right now with an occasional 12, light navy blue with white caps everywhere. Round clumps of seaweed ride the waves, and silver flying fish jump into them. It's amazing how long the fish, which remind me of balsawood airplanes, stay in the air.

At the end of our watch, we were more than 100 miles due east of St. Augustine, Florida. Fiorentino says there's a chance we'll make it back to Charleston by tomorrow night instead of Wednesday. I think after one more day I'll be ready to get off this thing.

Tuesday, May 15

00:06

Looks like we're going to be the first tall ship to Charleston! (with the exception of our Spirit, of course.) When C watch took over, the watch officer instructed his team to keep the Pride going at six-and-a-half knots and no lower. I'm now rolling from one side of my rack to the other, wondering if I'm ready for this to be my last night aboard the Pride. It was lovely tonight. Cloudy, chilly, breezy but not a drop of rain. Just the occasional salty mist on our faces. The white water we created glowed red at our port side and green at starboard from our navigation lights. The bioluminescence sparkled on both sides.

Today we brought in several sails because of the large amount of wind. We reefed, or shortened, the mainsail more than the crew was used to. Sarah laughed at it, calling it "cute."

A couple crew members went under water while clipped onto the bowsprit. They came up screaming and exhilarated and got their sails in. These people continue to impress me. A watch leader will say, "Do you want to do a boat check?" and they respond "Sure," over and over and over.

14:22

The water is calm and greener than it's been. We're using the engines now since there isn't much wind.

This morning we got out a sail that hasn't been up since October of 2003. Captain Bradley said the conditions were perfect for it, and we were ahead of schedule at the time, and it was silly to store a sail for a whole season and not get it out. He compared himself and the crew to kids, taking out every toy they had.

He got out a hand-drawn diagram of the sail to learn how to rig it; none of the present crew had put up the ringtail (which Fiorentino excitedly called the "blingsail"). It's a thin, long sail that attaches behind the mainsail.

"This is ridiculous! I love it!" Fiorentino said. "We're about to put up 10 sails. Who else has 10 sails to put up?" At which point Cavender smiled and raised her arms in the air proudly as if to say, "We do!"

"I wonder if the Virginia will put up her ringsail!" Mike said laughing.

Unfortunately the ringtail didn't quite work the first time, nor the second. The captain said it was a learning experience.

Today we saw a large sea turtle, covered in barnacles, and more than a dozen Atlantic spotted dolphins. The dolphins swam just starboard of our bow and we could see their whole bodies rolling and darting under the teal water. It was breathtaking, at least for someone who has only seen their fins from a distance.

It's moments like this that make sailing worth the lack of sleep and hard work, Ryan said while leaning over the side, adding that the moments of bliss and terror even out in the end.

23:47

It was around 15:30 when Meagher asked about the things that looked like smoke stacks in the distance. I looked up and saw the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge. I felt excitement, then dread as I thought about traffic and florescent lights and not having the opportunity to see water and sky, uninterrupted, in every direction.

As we got closer, the crew admired the other tall ships who had neared Charleston before us. Families in small boats motored close to the Pride to check her out. I answered a couple crew members' questions about Charleston -- what we were seeing and where they should visit.

Around 19:30, we reached the dock outside the Maritime Center, where about a dozen people greeted us. We worked on the Pride until about 23:00, mostly cleaning up the lines-- the ship has 198. Our total voyage was 484 nautical miles.

Total blisters: 7.

The crew was excited about doing laundry, showering at the Maritime Center and hitting a local watering hole with friends from the Spirit of South Carolina. I walked away from the schooner with my plastic bag, surprised to be sad.

Even with Captain Miles' warning before joining the crew, I didn't know what I was getting into. I couldn't.

When the landsickness wears off, and my surroundings quit rocking, I'll probably start hoping for another opportunity to sail. And the next time I list my experience on a crew application, I'll have more to say than canoeing.

Reach Kristen Hankla at 937-5548 or khankla@postandcourier.com.