Until Saturday November 16th the average wind was below force 4. Even so we estimated that we were putting about 100 miles a day behind us. By now we had settled into a daily routine. I would awaken and tune the radio to the British Overseas Services to check my watch by the time signal, and then listen to the news. Then Penny would get breakfast, usually Quaker oats then bread or Vitawheats with jam or marmite. I would wash up and Penny wipe, after which it would be time to take a morning sight. We would then do maintenance work and odd jobs until it was time for the noon sight.
After our bath we would take the afternoon sight and work out our position. Our usual practice was for me to take the sights and for Penny to work them out. In high seas it is not easy to “shoot” the sun from a small boat. The sun does not stay in the same relative position for more than a few seconds at a time, and swell continuously rises to obscure the horizon.
Concentrating on simple addition and subtraction is equally difficult and makes one’s head dizzy. On a firm platform, both tasks would be simple. At sea, it amazes me, how we get the accuracy, we do. Of course, to find a big island like Barbados is much easier than it will be to find a low atoll in the Pacific, but our technique is improving all the time. Anyway, it’s not the mystery it seems to be, to the beginner.
We find two meals a day quite sufficient. After taking the sight, I peel the spuds, then we have our evening meal, and by the time we have cleared up, it’s nearly dark. Penny nags me into playing cards for half an hour or so most evenings, but this soon gives me a headache. At 9.30pm or so we usually have a hot drink and then turn in. Even when there is no moon the stars give a reasonable light, and it is a peculiar sensation to lie in bed and watch the vane moving the tiller backwards and forwards. One gets no sensation that the boat is moving forward, only the eternal rolling from side to side.
Living as we do, in an area roughly 6ft by 16ft, we have no secrets from each other. I feel like a man with a season ticket to the Follies Bergere, but prohibited from going backstage. From a man’s point of view, a trip like this, would make an ideal honeymoon. Women, except for a few hardy spirits, would prefer the bright lights, I expect. Once one has confidence in the boat and in one’s ability to handle it, one’s fears recede. Our most worrying times are when we are nearest land. When you are only a few miles from land and an onshore blow is threatening the mid ocean, can seem a haven.