Fire - Dec 2007

I had to learn the exact location of every fire extinguisher on the 134-foot Corwith Cramer, and they were in the most remote corners and hidden nooks imaginable.  On several occasions, the Captain had me run above on my cook day and yell "Fire in the Galley!" to incite a boat-wide drill.  Obeying pre-determined drill positions (which were to be taken extremely seriously), I'd take the helm, flanked by the Captain and the First Mate, two highly impressive men.  My obviously superior position during drills was both a confidence boost and a power trip, and I found that I liked it just fine.  Smirking at the wheel, I'd gladly take orders from the highest ranks aboard.  For us on the quarterdeck, drills were a break... from studying, cooking, setting and striking sails, or navigating, depending on which rotation you were on.  Others continued these arduous chores, but in an even higher gear than before.  I watched the mere mortals scurry about the heeling ship, grand but under my thumb.  Sails flapped violently as they were set and struck.  Lines of students screamed "2, 6, HEAVE!" and hauled together, groans drowned out by the wind whipping past my relaxed ears.  Endless Caribbean blue sea breathed heavily in and out around our boat, flocks of flying fish soared above water and splashed into each rhythmic wave.  I didn't feel much different on my boat, soaring and crashing repeatedly.  We were big, but only by comparison... a truly insignificant speck against the continuous horizon.  Before me, burnt shoulders bulged as students hauled, and envious looks under beads of forehead sweat only satisfied me more - second only to the Captain, a grand step up from cooking in the Galley, my day was made every time.

-EMO'N