ON my way below, I sat for a moment on the bridge-deck, the short deck which holds the mizzenmast, between the doghouse entrance and the cockpit. I put my hands on the after end of the sliding hatch, and then slipped down, taking my weight on my hands. All the same, I arrived with a bang below. This was the normal way of going down when we were in good spirits or in a hurry. At other times we would turn sideways and use the vertical steps on either side of the door in the bulkhead which led into John’s compartment.
The small area which I had arrived in with a thump was the centre of the ship’s activities below decks. It was 5½ by 5½ feet square, excluding portions of it which extended to the sides of the ship, underneath the deck on each side of the doghouse. It was covered by the doghouse, a low roof raised 1½ feet above the deck, in which was the sliding hatch, by which I had just come below. As we were running fast now, with the wind on the beam, I closed the hatch by sliding it back over my head, so that no spray would come in. In order to close it completely, I would have to close two small doors, but this portion of the hatch was normally left open, unless there was a strong following wind blowing coldly into the cabin.
I looked back through the small open doorway at the singer of Carmen Jones still in full voice, and shouted to him to stream the log. He turned to let the patent log, which was coiled ready in the stern, over the side into the water.
The doghouse was lit by two windows in each side and by two heavy ports let into its front. The ports were partially obscured by the transom of the dinghy, which was lashed down on the deck, upside down, in front of them.
While I was taking off my wet oilskin jacket, I was standing on the small space immediately above the engine. The deck here lifted up, so that I could get at the engine, or at least get at the top of the engine, when I wanted to work on it. As it had just been running, the teak deck above it was still quite warm, and the cat was making the most of it at my feet. In Canada, where we used the yacht frequently for getting to and from the island on which we lived, the cat was quite accustomed to the sound of the motor, and would sit on the engine cover, this removable piece of deck, while we were moving under power. Now that we used the engine so rarely, she would never stay below while it was running, and protested loudly to everyone about its use, and the discomforts of a deck passage. Directly it stopped, she always went below and sat on the warm cover.
Immediately in front of me and between the two ports in front of the doghouse, were the ship’s clock and the barometer. They could both be seen from the cockpit, and the man on watch could see the minutes dragging slowly towards the time of his relief. The barometer was dropping slightly and I set it. Behind me was the opening which led into the after compartment, John’s place, which he shared with various water tanks, fuel tanks, a large number of eggs, a 4-gallon tin of sand for the cat, four 2-gallon plastic bottles, and his own tool-box and numerous other articles, all lashed down and well secured. The well of the cockpit formed the back of this compartment, and John’s berth was partitioned off on the starboard side. In order to get some light into this part of the ship, there were two dead-lights in the deck and in the front of the cockpit well there was a window. From down below, if I looked aft, I could see the helmsman’s legs through this window, and when the hatch was closed and the washboards in place, it was sometimes reassuring after a heavy sea, to look aft and see a pair of legs there, solid and unmoved.
At my feet, and in front of me, there were two steps leading to the level of the main cabin, and below the clock and the barometer there was a short handrail, which we used when stepping down into the cabin. On each side, below the doghouse windows, there was another handrail, for use when moving in the doghouse. Because of the constant and often violent motion, we found these handrails most useful, and as necessary as the straps in the London Underground.
On each side of where I was standing there were two bins, the tops of which formed the bottom steps, when coming below by the more sedate method, or when going on deck. They also made two seats, where we sat for meals at sea, conveniently close to the cook and the galley. If it was very calm, or in port, we used the cabin table for meals, but if we were keeping watch and steering, it was better to use these seats, as we could shout to the helmsman, and pass him his food at the same time as those off watch were having theirs. In rough weather the helmsman would usually prefer to wait until he could be relieved for his meal.
When I stood on these two steps, with my legs straddled, and my head out of the sliding hatch, I could just see comfortably over the doghouse, with the minimum exposure. The position reminded me of the days when I used to peer out of the turret of a Sherman tank, also hoping to avoid exposure. When ducking over a steep sea there was also a certain similarity in the motion.
In front of these two seats, on the port side, was the chart table, and on the starboard side, the galley. The chart table was a large one, and under it were shelves and racks for charts, and at one end of it, against the side of the ship, there was a bookshelf for the navigational books in use. Dividers and rulers were kept in canvas bands against the bulkhead, above the table, and the sextants were in a locker just below the hatch.
The galley, on my right as I looked down into the cabin, was lined with stainless steel below and behind the two stoves. Beside them there was the cook’s seat, also known as the electric chair, because the two engine batteries were below it. It faced forwards and had a curved seat, with two arms, so that the cook was held firmly in place, whatever the antics of the ship. In front of this seat was the dresser and sink, and 2 feet above the dresser, and up to the deckhead, were two shelves full of good things, such as tea, cocoa, chocolate, and sugar, and other loot for the night watches. Above the stoves were racks for saucepans and plates, and numerous mugs and cups, of a motley shape and design, hung from cup-hooks beneath them.
I hung up my coat in the oilskin locker, in front of the chart table, and then turned to the chart and laid a course down past Wilson Promontory, past Rodonda Island and the Curtis group, and up to the entrance of the Banks Strait, the southern passage through the islands, which lie between Australia and the north coast of Tasmania.
All that afternoon we made great progress, as if Tzu Hang was as pleased as we were to be on her way at last. The low coast to port went flying past, and in a few hours we had covered the same distance that it took two days to put behind us on our way up to Melbourne. We were under storm-jib, staysail, full main, and mizzen, and waltzing along with the sun abeam, a cold wind, sunshine, and squalls. I took over from John for the second afternoon watch from three to six. When I came up to relieve him, after making the entries in the log, he went forward to try and sweat the jib and main up a bit further. He could never leave the deck without trying to improve the set of the sails, and always the first thing that he did after coming on deck was to try and get their luffs a little tauter.
John had already fastened the wheel in approximately the right position, so that I was able to go forward and give him a hand. After working the heads of the sails up an inch or so, we coiled the ends of the halliards and hooked them up on the belaying pins on the mast. Then he went below to take off his oilskins, and I returned to the cockpit.
With the sea abeam Tzu Hang was going very comfortably, but every now and then a splash of spray came over the side of the ship, so that the decks were wet. None of us was ever content with the adjustment that the previous watch had put on the wheel, so I now turned my attention to try and improve the setting that John had spent most of his watch in achieving. With the wind on the beam Tzu Hang will not sail herself except under certain combinations of sail, and this was not one of them. On each side of the wheel, attached to the gunwale, is a piece of elastic shock cord, in turn fastened to a short piece of line with a loop in the end. These loops can be dropped over the spokes of the wheel, so that it is held in the right position but still allowed a certain amount of play. The wheel had been fixed in the position to counteract Tzu Hang’s tendency, under this rig, to turn up into the wind. When she is under a balanced rig, she can be left alone for hours and hours, and sometimes for days, but when artificial means are used to keep her on her course, she usually requires watching, and occasional corrections.
John appeared