Crossing the Pond in Eagle 21 May2011~(48°02.lS'N,27° 21.53'W) We are sailing towards the coast oflreland, about 900 miles SW of Waterford, our destination. The wind is off the quarter, blowing about 20-25 knots, and we are surfing along with a following sea at about 9-10 knots. Seas are 10-12 feet, but every fifteen minutes or so we take a couple of heavy rollers. Woe to the crewman who has left something unsecured on a bunk or countertop. We've been at sea for rwo weeks and expect to see land in five or six days. It has been a long time since I have been at sea for a long period of time and getting my sea legs back has been a thrill. But taking a voyage on this 295-foot three-masted barque has been enlightening in many other respects, as well. An Atlantic crossing in the USCGC Eagle is a voyage that will stay with you for a lifetime-which is exactly what the US Coast Guard Academy has in mind for the officers and cadets who sail her. We set sail on a sunny morning in New London, Connecticut, but by day rwo it became clear that the North Atlantic planned to show the future pillars of the Coast Guard exactly what it could deliver. By dawn of day three, we were flying in a full gale. The storm put our sturdy ship through the kind of sailing few of our crew of cadets had even imagined possible. As the hours passed and the seas and wind continued to increase, we started taking in sail. In came the courses, plus a handful of staysails fore and aft. And finally, after dark, the topsails. The cadets and crew who weren't seasick
by Deirdre O'Regan
'/! calm sea does not make a skiffed sailor. " Day three: riding out a gale is not aff non-stop action. There are hours and hours ofbeing on stand-by when fatigue, anxiety, and even a Little boredom can set in-until the next flurry of high-action. did some bucko sail handling aloft in the dark that night-especially considering that it was only the third day aboard for many. Up forward on the fo'c's le-head, the leeward monkey rail, a wood- and iron pinrail that holds the belaying pins for the four headsail sheets, blew out. Some of the bronze belaying pins sheared off where they went through the rail. Others bent at angles that revealed the kind of strain they had been under. The headsails, as a result, were flogging out of control for a while until the crew and cadets managed to get their hands on enough of the sailcloth to wrestle them onto the bowsprit and secure them-or in rwo cases, what was left of them. We spent the next few days repairing sails and rails, both down below in the sail locker and damage control compartment and on deck in the rain. The day after a storm is always a time to regroup, eat something solid and have it stay down, make repairs, and marvel at what you've just
been through. Day four aboard Eagle was no different. When the storm blew out, a week of calm came on its heels. We spent the next full week motoring in a thick fog as we crossed the famous Grand Banks of the North Atlantic. There were times you couldn't even make out the lookouts up forward from the bridge deck through the fog. Those spending time on the weather deck needed full foul weather gear if they hoped to stay dry. The wi nd picked up a few days ago, and we have been sailing under square sails
(Left) The pinraif where the working jib sheets are made off, which used to sit atop the post in the foreground, Lower right, blew out and with it the four jibs. (right) The fore upper topsail needed a sizable patch, so the crew guided the cadets on how to send down a square sail underway and send it back up to bend it on when the repair was completed.
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SEA HISTORY 136, AUTUMN 2011