God vakt!
The time is 0630. I wake to the sound of the waves curling along the hull a foot from my head, and the soft pad of feet on the deck above me. The light slanting through the portholes is bright in the dim banjer. Time for this medseiler, or trainee, to get up if she wants a pre-watch shower.
Unzip sleeping bag; swing legs down and feel for the edge of the table with my toes, trying not to bump into Richard, whose hammock is swinging peacefully to the movement of the ship not four inches from mine. Got it! Slither downwards, crawl under Sahid, also sleeping peacefully, and collect my washing stuff and clean clothes from where I carefully put them last night, on the top shelf of my locker. Then it’s a cross between shimmying and a limbo dance between the rest of the hammocks to get to the banjer steps, a pause to put on my sea-boots at the top, and out into the sunshine.
It’s going to be a glorious day at sea. The hills of the south Norway coast are blue in the distance, and the waves are dancing. A glance up into the sky shows me that the lower and upper topsails that our watch set so carefully last night have been stowed away. On deck, the red watch (4-8, twice) are busy doing a last
