Excerpts from SEA LETTER ABOARD THE THREE-MASTED BARK EAGLE:
"Sunday was a rest day for all but 20 cadets on watch. We were snorting along on a starboard tack with the deck heeled over on a 10 to 12 degree slant. This was a rest day for all but 20 cadets on watch. A storm was threatening. The skipper climbed the windward side of the starboard fore shrouds to get a feel of things from the crosstrees. By noon all 22 sails were set and taut, full and by, with the lee ends of the yards braced tightly against the port shrouds, with seas of eight to ten feet. We smoked along at 15 knots with a bone in our teeth. On one roll we logged a 36 degree heel. This was flying! Spray exploded over the bow as the ship surged forward. Seas cascaded over the lee rail, gushed out the scuppers, and swamped crew and guests standing nearby. We had to lower the royals and t'gallants. Safety lines were rigged along the waist of the Eagle. It was as good as square-rigged sailing can get! The skipper said he was so excited he wished he had cannon to fire!
"On June 13, about 3:30 a.m. (0330 hours), being wakeful and off watch, I went topside to explore the ship and witness a dawn. Eagle was sailing along at 11 knots, heeled over about 10 to 15 degrees. Bow spray enveloped the fo'c'sle head, vaporized, and blew away to leeward as Eagle sliced effortlessly into the seas. The bow watch, unaware of my presence, sang loudly to himself. I could hear him over the roar of the wind in the sails and rigging. Abaft the foremast is a hammock-like rig made of rope netting, the crib in which the main topmast staysail is stowed when it is doused. I crept into this crib and lay down, facing east. The sound of the wind and the roll of the ship lulled me. The mainsails billowing overhead cut sharp dark arcs in the star-studded skies. Cumulus clouds on the horizon caught muted colors at first light. My dawn was over all too quickly. It will stay with me the rest of my life...
"On our second Sunday at sea, 550 miles north of St. Thomas, we hove-to for a swim! The mainsail was hauled back and the lower topsail was braced on the opposite tack, with sail taken aback. All other sails were doused. Water 75 degrees; air 81 degrees; a calm sea. We were dead in the water, drifting on gentle swells. A Chief, armed with an M-16 rifle, stood shark watch. We were jubilant. Officers, enlisted men, cadets, and guests jumped 20 feet into the drink from the rails. Others climbed the rigging and somersaulted from the port fore shrouds! Even the skipper enjoyed the frolic! We splashed about in the middle of nowhere, in 12,000 feet of water. To get back aboard, we had to scramble up a cargo net and Jacob's ladder slung over the side. However, in cresting, the Eagle's ponderous bottom would swing up and away from us. The net and ladder then dangled out of reach! It appeared we were stranded in mid-ocean! When Eagle momentarily settled in a trough, she rolled back in our direction and we were able to scramble aboard."