As for education and entertainment, we were supplied and oversupplied. In addition to textbooks, we had a complete set of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, the Book of Knowledge, and some three hundred additional books. We had decks of cards, and kits for checkers, chess, and backgammon; and sets of Mahjong and Scrabble for family games. We had a handcranking phonograph and a wide selection of records. Ted’s grandmother, Minnetta Leonard, had even sent him a plastic ukulele, evidently in the fond hope that he would be prepared for the beach at Waikiki.
In everything except that important commodity, deep-sea experience, I felt we were ready. If we were fools to embark without that vital item, at least we were fools who were operating within a framework of adequate preparation and common sense.
As to the mental preparation of the ship’s company, that was difficult to assay. Barbara had taken over without demur whatever tasks were assigned to her, and Jessica wrote faithfully in her diary, but neither of them asked questions or appeared to be overly concerned. Whether due to an inability to imagine what deep-sea life would be like or utter confidence in the Skipper, it seemed to put an extra burden on me.
As for the three Japanese men, they were, during the preparation and the trip through the Inland Sea, completely unconcerned in certain areas, and very active in others. Although well-educated men, they seemed quite content with manual skills: carpentry, painting, sail handling, and deck seamanship. They appeared to have no interest in the sailing plans, navigational methods, or the operation of the radio or auxiliary engine. Also, as far as I could detect, they didn’t seem to be worried.
On the morning of October 26, the Rev. Raymond Christopher, a British missionary, visited us and held a short service aboard, asking a blessing on our journey. His solemn words sent a sudden chill through us and more than any other event made us realize some of the implications of our departure.
That evening we sailed from Takamatsu.
Our leave-taking was strongly reminiscent of Hiroshima: crowds, press, last-minute gifts, bilingual confusion, tears. But there was one vital exception: we knew that this time we were heading not for the quiet waters of the Inland Sea but for the Hawaiian Islands, across more than 4,000 miles of open ocean.
The day was hectic, culminating in a formal send-off, for radio and national TV, presided over by the governor of Kagawa Prefecture. The circumstances surrounding our departure are shown in the log:
Final preparations completed, immigration cleared, and check made with Coast Guard; decided to leave on afternoon of Oct. 26. News of Typhoon 18 (now making up near Philippines) was received, and decision made to proceed until more details available. Decided to try to get through Naruto Straits if possible, rather than go all the way around Awaji Shima.
Also I notified the U.S. Navy in Yokosuka of the date and time of our departure, our approximate route, and the estimated length of our trip (45 days, based on an assumed distance, by sailing route, of 4,500 miles, and an average of 100 miles per day). I informed them, as I had the local Coast Guard, that we had no facilities for sending radio messages, only for receiving. We did, however, have a small hand-operated emergency set (Gibson Girl) on which we could send an automatic SOS at limited range, but this would be used only in direst emergency.