Our first four days were pleasant and we made good distance but as we worked our way out of the friendly trades our speed fell light. The sixteenth day marked our smallest run, when we recorded 16 miles made good. Most of the night was spent in slatting around, which is most unpleasant, as the wear on the gear and sails is excessive, due to the constant motion, and the noise is irritating.
We were sailing slightly to the west of the Sargasso Sea area and a new problem arose—keeping the rotator log free of floating Sargasso weed, which we passed in great patches. Another annoyance that was becoming well-nigh unbearable was bugs. We had gradually accumulated every kind and variety known to man: cockroaches, small, medium, and huge; biting ants, ants with wings, and ants without wings; moths; borers; fleas and bedbugs; weevils; and an infinitesimal insect which Jessica dubbed “red mouths” because they were all red and all mouth. But I am exaggerating; we did not have mosquitoes, sand flies, or hornets—although, as Barbara said, “We hardly miss them.”
The girls, not to put too fine a point to it, were getting fed up. Land fever was undermining their morale, but they nobly kept their feelings to themselves and it was not until long afterward, when I read their very outspoken journal entries, that I realized with what eagerness they were straining toward home and the reunion with family and friends. Barbara, on June 4:
The combination of sleepless nights (thanks to BUGS), becalmed days, and a diminishing larder makes it difficult to keep one’s spirits aloft. We are now out of potatoes and all other vegetables except one (1) onion. We have four cups of rice left (our usual allowance for a single meal being six!); and only enough tea for today’s tiffin; we are completely out of oleo and canned butter; ship’s biscuits (except for the emergency supply lashed in the life raft); and baking powder (I’ve been souring milk with vinegar and using baking soda for pancakes and dumplings, but now the flour is also gone and only the weevils are left). Eggs are down to three which, supplemented with (ugh) egg powder, will be sufficient for tomorrow’s scrambled breakfast.
We have one more “weekly sack” but it would go fast if we had only the canned goods it contains to fill us. The spaghetti is gone—and the last of the macaroni (without cheese) will be our supper tonight. Dehydrated soups, which usually eke out the canned variety, have also been finished, so lunches will begin to be a problem.
At any rate, we shan’t starve, for we have plenty of dried peas, beans and apricots; vacuum-packed cans of oatmeal; tins of pineapple juice; and lots of evaporated milk. A monotonous diet, but loaded with vitamins and calories. If only the wind would do us right, we could be there in two days!
However, the wind did not do us right, and on the morning of June 5 fog—a condition we had devoutly hoped to avoid—overtook us. As it gradually cleared, rain set in. We were now making three knots after sixty hours of mostly calms. For two days we had been unable to get a good position because of overcast and had to rely on dead reckoning.
During the night we passed many boats. The most baffling encounter is recorded as follows:
Small boat, dead ahead, showing green side-light, green masthead light, and all-around white light same level as side-light. As we approached, he turned off green light and headed directly for us. Could clearly hear engines. No running lights. He stopped several hundred yards away. We altered course and finally left him behind. Mysterious!
The next day we were again in fog, with cold rain and only a very light breeze. Our foghorn, hand operated, sounded small and insignificant, but we pressed a mournful wheeze from it every two minutes, in response to the hootings from ships around us, and hoped that the sound would carry. Eyes and ears have little relaxation in a fog. The known world contracts and all beyond the narrow range of vision becomes intangible and full of menace.