Chapter 7

Very early in the morning, we fired up the radar, turned on the AIS, and warmed up the two diesel engines. We had backed “Wings” into the berth, so it was very easy for daddy to put her in gear and ease her out of the marina.

Manila harbour is very busy, and like most everyplace in the Philippines, the boats and ships were in a terrible hurry. I kept watch on the bow, and Samantha kept watch astern, as we motored down the bay. We had headset walkie-talkies, so we could talk to daddy over the noise of the big engines. “Wings” had big fuel tanks, so daddy planned to stay under power until we were mostly out of the harbour and maybe even the bay, so it wouldn’t be congested when we made sail, since this would be the first time Sammie and I were pulling on the halyards.

We passed Drum Island, and then Corregidor. I knew it had a fort on it, and was in a battle of WWII, but we didn’t have time to think about it or take a tour, because there were high speed ferry boats, freighters, tankers, and fishing boats whose captains seemed to have a death wish, that we needed to keep track of and avoid.

Once we were clear of Manila Bay, daddy throttled back to idle. Samantha went to check on Dannie. I took off the sail covers on the foresail and mainsail, and stowed the covers in a deck locker. The jibs were roller furling, and daddy set the jib and staysail. He checked the course, and the track we would need to make good in order to arrive in Singapore after sailing over 2,000 km of mostly open ocean. The wind was favourable for making the track good, so daddy told the autopilot to steer for the first waypoint he had set in last night.

The wind was coming from the north, blowing down from China. The jibs were on the left, or port side of our little ship, the wind coming over the starboard side, meaning we were on a starboard tack. The actual point of sail was a reach, because our course was roughly southwest.

Daddy had me put the engines in neutral, and then go down to the engine room to shut them down and turn off the fuel supply valves. I checked the view glass on each of the fuel filters to make sure we didn’t have any problems with water in the diesel fuel. We were good, so I ran back up to the deck. Daddy and I got ready to set the foresail.

The old time schooner sailors used to call sailing with just the foresail set, being in foresail harbour. That means it will move the schooner along, but not overpower her, or make her heel too much, so it seems quiet, like she was anchored in a harbour. If it is really windy, we only set the staysail, because it is smaller than the jib. On a good sailing day, like today, we set both jibs, and then set the foresail. We see how she wears her sails, and then if the wind is not too strong, we hoist the mainsail.

Daddy decided that since it would be my watch, we would not hoist the main yet. We found out that we were going to need power halyard winches for Sammie and me to be able to hoist sails by ourselves. It was just another item for the list of work to be done at the boatyard.

Daddy took me into the pilothouse and showed me the course on the plotter. The electronic chart showed the green course line on the ocean blue of the map, and “Wing’s” position represented by a little boat hull shape, moving along the course line. He reminded me that the wind could shift, so I needed to monitor the wind direction, and I needed to check the sonar to make sure there weren’t things ahead of us on the ocean floor that came up high enough to rip the bottom out of our boat.

Daddy kissed me exceptionally well, patted my bottom, and said, “You have the con.”

I smiled and replied, “Aye, I have the con Captain.” Then daddy left me as watch officer, safety lookout, and person responsible for the lives of everyone on our little schooner.

I checked the GPS, and saw we were making good 5 knots over the bottom, on our course line. I logged it in the book; with the time I took the watch, the Latitude/Longitude position, and signed it, S.I. Cory, 1st. Mate. My middle name is Isobel. I’m not fond of it, but I have to use it so you can tell the difference between me, and the other S. Cory on the crew. Sammie is S.Y. Cory. I get the literary middle name, and she gets the sexy, Yolanda. Say it with me, Samantha Yolanda. It even alliterates. Oh well, Stephanie Isobel is better than a lot of things they could have called me. I pity the poor girl who got named Moon Unit.

I checked the wind direction, put on a life preserver, then went on deck. The angle was steady, and because we were on a reach, there was no danger of a gybe or rounding up, without a violent wind shift. The weather fax didn’t show any reason to worry. I looked up the foresail to check the wrinkles and make sure it was drawing well. I pulled on the foresail mainsheet, until it smoothed out the sail by improving the angle of the wind to the sail. I went to the bow, and checked that both anchors were properly stowed on their rollers, and held in place with safety lashing. It might seem silly that I was checking these things so soon after leaving port, but can you imagine the damage two heavy hunks of metal with sharp points could do if they got loose and were swinging around like wrecking balls? Lashing ropes can stretch, and knots can work loose. I took my job very seriously.

I was careful to get a secure handhold before I took each step forward. I knew that daddy would probably rig jack lines tomorrow, and require everyone to wear a harness and clip on when out of the pilothouse. It is the safe thing to do, but does make moving around a little slow. I was enjoying the freedom of being the First Mate, the watch officer, and alone on deck.

Sammie brought me lunch at noon. She smiled brightly as she bragged about how she had worn daddy out and drained him dry, so he could go to sleep and be ready for the night watch. I smiled back and asked how Dannie was doing. We all had super lucky genes, and didn’t get seasick unless it was a pretty major storm. We could still function though, and usually got over it in a couple of hours. Dannie shared our motion sickness resistance, and she was happily reading, as usual.

I logged the noon position, checked the radar and AIS for traffic, and then ate my lunch. Of course we always have the VHF on, and monitor CH 16, but the big ships that can sink you don’t use VHF very much unless they are coming into a harbour, and there was nothing interesting to listen to. We had not got our HF license yet, so it was installed, but not powered up.

The AIS showed a tanker coming up on us from astern. I checked her info, and called in the blind on CH 16 for the “Western Star.” I got a reply right away, which always makes you feel better, because you know they are paying attention. I told them they were overtaking a 50-foot schooner, and asked their intentions. They told me they would overtake on my port side. I thanked them, and signed off. The actual Captain of the tanker came on the radio, and asked why a child was talking on the radio. I said, “This is S.I. Cory, First Mate of the sailing schooner, “Wings.” I have the watch sir. Perhaps our VHF doesn’t manage higher pitched voices very well. Do I need to wake the Captain, sir? He has the night watch, and is in his cabin.”