But St Ebba is a dry ship. She proves that at least. Any other vessel I have been in, whaler or other, would ship more water than we do.
There is no use trying to steam or motor against this N.E. gale, so it’s up close-reefed fore and mainsail and staysail; only four men to do it, and that for the first time of this ship at sea, and in a gale. Reef points are made and all got ready; then it’s “Haul away on throat and peak” and up goes the scrap of sail, and what clouds of spray burst over the oilskin-clad figures as they haul away cheerily! The writer, at the wheel on the bridge, even comes in for a bit of the rather too refreshing salt spray.
Now the after or main sail is set like a board, and we are transformed into a sailing-ship.
A ring on the bell and the engine and sick engineer get respite; a point or two off the wind and there is the silence of a sailing-ship—no engine vibrations. True, we make little or no progress and some leeway, but the motion is heavenly compared to the plugging away of an engine into a head sea.
A Dead Seal on the Floe Edge
The decks get dry though the sea is very rough, another proof of the St Ebba quality. We wish, however, we were further on our road to “our ain countrie.”
The mess-room of St Ebba is not extensive, a little iron house built round the foremast. One third of it is the steward’s or cook’s galley. He acts both parts. He is almost like a fair Greek, rather thin, with golden hair and a skin as white as his jacket; poor fellow, he is sick, but sticks to his pans, and tries to forget the young wife he left behind him.
His galley is about three feet by six feet beam, and his stove and pans and coal-box just leave him room to stand in. Our mess-room is what I consider a very cosy room for a whaler; it is fully five feet by six feet beam of iron, grained yellow oak—iron ties and bolts grained like oak. It may not be æsthetic, still in some ways it is the best part of the ship. It seems to be the pivot of our movements. There is a round port-hole or bolley to port, and two looking aft towards our stern and a little round-topped iron door on the starboard. Through the two ports astern comes the sunlight and the iron door keeps out sea and wind, so in this stormy weather our mess-room has its points. There is another round-topped door from it to the galley. So Hansen (cook and steward) has merely to stretch his arm round to us to hand the coffee-pot, or sardines.