Coincidence - Alan May [28]
10
The Inspiration passed Point Loma and headed into the Pacific Ocean, southbound for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. If everything went well, it would arrive there on the twenty-seventh of August, seven days away.
For the first supper at sea, Jarred, the cook, prepared one of the meals he had found to be especially popular with students: spaghetti and meatballs accompanied by fresh bread. Sure enough, most of the Floaties enjoyed it hugely, except the few who were feeling a little unwell; the thought of eating anything at all was the farthest thing from their minds. It wasn’t unusual at the beginning for a few to be laid low, given the combination of the unaccustomed motion of the ship, fatigue, and a bit of anxiety. Those suffering usually recovered in a day or two.
After the meal, at eight, the first of the watches that would be their nightly routine for the length of the voyage began. The officers had drilled the importance of the watch into the Floaties from the beginning. Several of the Floaties had been sceptical—Pierre, in particular. Wasn’t it just discipline for the sake of discipline? he wondered. Discomfort masquerading as “character building,” with no real purpose? To much like Caneff, he thought.
And in any case, the radar alarm would sound if another vessel was approaching, allowing plenty of time to alter course. Why keep everyone in a chronic state of daytime drowsiness when technology had made keeping watch by night obsolete?
But that was before the captain related the story of a night, early in its voyages, that the Inspiration had come all too close to plowing into a shipping container. The container was lying too low in the water for the radar to pick it up; only the sharp-eyed Floatie on watch duty at one that morning had helped the ship avert a disaster.
“Then, too, as anyone familiar with computers could appreciate, sometimes even the most advanced technology could let you down,” the captain said.
Well, Pierre thought, perhaps there was some justification for night watch after all. It was a shame that he had been put on the two A.M. shift for his first watch, though—and worse still that Melissa was scheduled for midnight. But at least they had been assigned to galley duty together.
Anika had divided the crew into six watch groups of five or six students each, with a mix, on each watch, of guys and girls. Students in the same cabin were assigned the same shift so that others sleeping in the cabin wouldn’t be disturbed when it came time, two hours later, for a watch change. The watch rotation started at eight each night and ended at eight the next morning.
Some shifts were better than others. The first watch in the evening was deemed best because it ended at ten and you could still get a full night’s sleep. A close second was the six-to-eight morning watch, again because at least you could have an uninterrupted night’s sleep. All other times meant having to be roused from a sound sleep to go on deck and fulfill your duties. The best you could hope for was a gentle awakening.
As Melissa and Pierre were to learn, the person from the previous watch who came to rouse you from your much-needed slumber might be the type to come bursting into the cabin, snap on the light, and shout “Time to get up!” right in your ear. A different, more thoughtful type might gently touch your shoulder, whispering, “Your turn.” After her first night at the mercy of the former sort, Melissa vowed to be one of the latter herself.
At the start of each shift, the watch group went amidships and reported to the officer of the watch, who took attendance. The captain, first mate, and second mate each took a nightly four-hour shift as officer of the watch. The officer assigned specific tasks if anything special had to be done, such as adding or dousing a sail. Each watch group appointed its own leader for two-week intervals, and each member took a turn as leader. The watch leader organized watch duty: two students must be on active watch on each side of the bridge for an hour at a time; two more, who were