Dear Marge,

DATE: 2002-11-19
POSITION:013.06N143.41W (I was wrong, we are still 1000NM by rhumb line from Christmas Isle)
WEATHER:

Well tonight has certainly been the worst so far....

I was horrified to find that you had put all my logs on the Internet! On a public site too! I really appreciate what you are doing for me, and I am not cross with you, but it will have to come down. I have signed a legally binding (American) contract that says I will not disclose with anyone the details of the voyage, the owner, etc. Not to mention the personal aspect. I owe it to these guys not to ruin their professional careers, added to which they could sue me for liable and slander. I sent you frank and honest emails, as a private journal for myself and for your own appreciation. I thought that it would be nice to put some scant details of my location, weather and general well-being on to a very private web site where my friends and family could check-up on my progress. I didn't think that some American hick would be sending me emails about the crew! These are real people, and you used their real names and the real boat's name. I could be in very, very serious trouble, not to mention that it is the most horrible thing to do to my fellow crew mates. I never realised how open the journal was, it won't take long for it to reach the broker and then the owner. I might find myself arrested when we disembark at Samoa. I'm not kidding about this, the owner is a very wealthy man of dubious back-ground and the legal document we had to sign was 20 pages of pure American lawyer speak. So please, I appreciate what you have done, but you will have to delete it straight away and make sure there are no copies kicking about anywhere.

Anyway that matter aside, I have other, more urgent worries on the boat. I cracked my head on the instrument panel early and the pain and shock woke something in me. It had been my watch and I chose to adjust the sails. I have been keeping a lissez-faire attitude toward the sailing. Three cooks is enough around one broth, and all though I question all of what I have seen, I keep my humility because I respect these guys greater experience. So they had the usual debate about which direction and how to set the sails. None of it made sense to my knowledge, so I waited until David had gone below, and set the jib to what I thought to be right. Phil was in agreement, saying it had been his idea all along to do it that way, and between us we rigged-up a barber-hauler. Within minutes the boat had put on an extra 2 knots! This is a considerable increase in speed, and would cut the journey time by 20% (note that this is all I am interested in anymore). So Phil then spent the next hour loudly (and of course drunkenly) singing my praises, saying I was so much better than anyone else: cooperative, obedient, knowledgeable, blah blah blah. Of course I was flattered, but also very embarrassed. I knew full well that all though he is deaf, the other crew aren't. They were sitting down below half-hearing the Captain's little spiel, whilst I mumbled agreement about David's faults, the lack of respect to the Skipper that had been shown, etc. I was well aware that I was digging myself in to a deep hole, but the more modest I tried to be the louder Phil's praises were. In the end I made my excuses and ducked down in to the saloon where I was greeted by 3 stony faces. I tried to make light of it, saying that I was humouring the old bugger, and that I didn't believe a word of it, which is true, I don't. But one sarcastic remark was all I got, and as I turned to leave I whacked my head on the instruments. I cringed up in pain more from humiliation than from physical pain, and was doubly hurt by the fact that no-one came to my aid despite bleeding quite badly. It was then that it really hit me, how the other crew where thinking. I had to go to the back of the boat and sit in the rain, and think about things. I wanted more than anything to be at home right then. It seems very childish, but I felt very weary. Weary of trying to do the right thing, to humour everyone, and to keep my own emotions at bay. I had managed to isolate myself from everyone and only ingratiating myself for a short period with a drunken captain.

Things have improved a little since. I have done my best to patch up the damage. I opened up to David, explaining (and slightly over-playing) how I was worried and that I thought the most important thing was to humour Phil. I really think he is by far-and-away the most dangerous thing on this boat. If he has a tantrum, he has the power to seriously damage the boat and the crew with it. David mooted the idea that we could overpower him if we were united, but I pleaded with him not to do this. It's pathetic really: it boils down to David's pride. He thinks he is a better sailor and has something to prove about sail trim. What does it matter? I want to get there alive and happy and I couldn't give a shit if the boat looks sloppy! David is so typically English, saying he will write a letter when he gets home. He misses the point, if he pisses Phil off anymore, he won't get home. They came close to a physical struggle last night.

Bart had meanwhile taken on a personal argument with the skipper about morals and rights, and whilst in principle I agree fully with Bart, I wish he hadn't started this argument. They were both drunk, the skipper more-so by far, and the debate was getting very heated. I admire Bart both for his bravery and the skill of his argument. In the end he seemed to have either backed down or reached an agreement. However I realised how stupid people are with their pride. Bart would risk his life, and that of the crew, to argue over a technicality rather than back down. For all his diplomacy and upbeat nature, this is still the weakness that he, like a lot of people, falls down on.

Things have settled down again now and everyone has gone to sleep at peace. But I don't feel comfortable. I don't want the uncomfortable position of being the skipper's pet, especially in such hostile surrounds, yet nor can I afford to offend the skipper. However bad a job I do (I politely acknowledge his requests and then fail to do them) I can't seem to do any wrong in his eyes. I am sure this is because he wants to use me as a weapon to humiliate David with. It is a heavy burden that rests on me, and whilst everyone else sleeps well tonight, I am not feeling very easy.

Of course if they get wind of livejournal.com and the broker radios Phil, I'll probably be murdered by the crew in these lawless waters anyway.

On a brighter note, the tropical rain has stopped, and we are supposed to be viewing a meteorite shower but it is too cloudy. I also saw schools of flying fish, flying over the boat, which was amazing and I saw the first few seabirds. I think they were a petrel and a tern.

What I want more than anything is to see you right now.

Yours in earnest,

Ben