The start of the storm
During dinner we hit a Caribbean storm. It wasn’t violent at first, not exactly the tail of a hurricane, but like it to many on the ship. Diners looked nervous as the first big waves shuddered the sides as if we’d been smashed by missiles.
I never get sea-sick, and love storms at sea. After dinner, I struggled to force open a door to the deck against the wind, to venture outside. Alone, I leaned against the rail, holding tight, enjoying wild nature at its best. Winds tore white crests off waves, spraying white foam fast, like a blizzard. Waves winched upwards to wet me, and receded just before they engulfed me and the deck. Swollen seas served salt to my lips, and stained my suit. The ship lurched in all combinations of up and down and side to side. I heard doors creak and crack and slam open and shut. Heavily spray-drenched decking slipped underfoot. Ropes and cables lashed about. It wasn’t safe.
Safely back inside, passengers trying to reach their cabins trudged up a steep hill as the ship’s bows rose up a wave. As the bows dipped and plunged down the other side of the wave, everyone sped up, walking fast downhill. Two elderly ladies fell. I helped them up as the ship rolled from port to starboard, and lines of people walking up or downhill swayed to port and starboard too.
In my cabin metal coat hangers clinked as shirts, hung from a rail, swung as the ship swung. Winds whipped and whistled on the porthole, wiping washing water away. Every few minutes, a tremendous wave shuddered the ship, as it shook and vibrated like being struck by earthquakes.
As suddenly as the storm began, it calmed.
I went to sleep praying no-one was hurt, though I suspect many were sea-sick, at least.
I never get sea-sick, and love storms at sea. After dinner, I struggled to force open a door to the deck against the wind, to venture outside. Alone, I leaned against the rail, holding tight, enjoying wild nature at its best. Winds tore white crests off waves, spraying white foam fast, like a blizzard. Waves winched upwards to wet me, and receded just before they engulfed me and the deck. Swollen seas served salt to my lips, and stained my suit. The ship lurched in all combinations of up and down and side to side. I heard doors creak and crack and slam open and shut. Heavily spray-drenched decking slipped underfoot. Ropes and cables lashed about. It wasn’t safe.
Safely back inside, passengers trying to reach their cabins trudged up a steep hill as the ship’s bows rose up a wave. As the bows dipped and plunged down the other side of the wave, everyone sped up, walking fast downhill. Two elderly ladies fell. I helped them up as the ship rolled from port to starboard, and lines of people walking up or downhill swayed to port and starboard too.
In my cabin metal coat hangers clinked as shirts, hung from a rail, swung as the ship swung. Winds whipped and whistled on the porthole, wiping washing water away. Every few minutes, a tremendous wave shuddered the ship, as it shook and vibrated like being struck by earthquakes.
As suddenly as the storm began, it calmed.
I went to sleep praying no-one was hurt, though I suspect many were sea-sick, at least.
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