Ships ahoy!

Nick Thorpe explains the thrill of the high seas, and how you can get onboard. Those afraid of futtock shrouds should stop reading now

Braced queasily on a pitching sidedeck with the captain bellowing orders at me from the wheelhouse, it dawns on me that the phrase ‘volunteer crew’ is a bit misleading.
OK, so it was my decision to enrol as temporary crewmember on the Tall Ship Jean de la Lune – a cunning way to hitch a free passage round the Outer Hebrides. But having crossed the gangplank, free will no longer comes into it. I now exist to do whatever the captain tells me – assuming I can understand him.
“HAUL THE MAIN THROAT HALYARD!” barks our bearded skipper John Reid, as I hang onto a sodden rope with two equally bewildered passengers.
“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” I shout back above the moaning wind. “Did you say hold or haul?”
“HAUL!” he bellows back. “NOW!”
Three of us pull down on what I hope is the main throat halyard as the rocky Isle of Skye slavers menacingly on our port side. The largest sail inches up the mast and billows elegantly in the wind until it is stretched and round-bellied. I shout “One, two,
HEAVE!” in a vain attempt to convince the paying passengers that I know what I’m doing. The ship’s cook promptly overrides me with the correct order, which is: “Two, six, HEAVE!” No, really. I’ve never understood why mariners insist on having their own
Masonic-style terminology, but Daniel, my 17-year-old fellow “volunteer crew” mate seems to thrive on it. He’s hooked on the teamwork and adrenaline of tall ship sailing, and already knows even the most obscure bits of the boat. His personal
favourite is “futtock shroud”.[No, nothing to do with the bit you sit on; they’re ropes, wires or chains that form part of the rigging – etc.]
“Mind your step on the Flemish Horse,” he says nonchalantly, as we edge out along the yard on a piece of precarious footrope, 50 feet above the water, trying to unfurl the sail. Jargon aside, going aloft (with harnesses) is one of my favourite moments – I love the stretched horizons, the salt wind, and the aerial view of tiny figures on the deck below.

Hip to be square
The Jean de la Lune is only one of a fleet of restored square riggers back in action long after the golden age of sail, when such ships criss-crossed the globe bearing tea, grain and spices. I first fell in love with the seagoing life when the Tall Ships Race visited my hometown of Edinburgh more than a decade ago and transformed the docks into a scene out of Hornblower.
These massive international events remain one of the best ways of crossing the nautical gangplank – they attract more than a hundred ships, crewed by 6,000 young men and women from over 30 countries worldwide.
If Master and Commander puts a lump in your throat, you’ll love the life aboard these elegant vessels. You don’t need to know anything about sailing to enrol, as long as you’re prepared to learn… and put some welly into it. Forget sunloungers and cocktails before dinner – you’ll be expected to scrub decks, polish handrails, heave on ropes and get up in the middle of the night to help steer the ship.

Deep impact
Once I’m out of my bunk, that’s my favourite part: the hiss of waves on the prow and the creak of the ship’s wheel, with just the eerie green light of the compass as you steer the ship quietly across dark oceans, under a sky that’s spattered with stars.You learn to rub along with all sorts, and take things a bit less personally in the gruff but friendly atmosphere of a ship’s crew.
The bosun on the Jean de la Lune is a case in point, with a large bulldog tattoo on one arm and a fondness for sea shanties and bright orange, steel-toe-capped wellies, which he wears religiously, even in the pub. He is also a forgiving boss, even when I forget to relieve him on anchor watch. “You’re a worthless gobsh*te,” he tells me in his cheery Cork accent. “But it’s all good!”
The life aquatic is breathtaking. We share the watery expanse with minke whales, and dolphins who love to twist and show their pale bellies while riding our bowwave. Approaching the island of Barra, the ship’s cook spots a basking shark, slowly sieving the seas with a gaping mouth that seems to glow a weird luminescent green. Despite the strange nautical language and the necessity of taking barked orders where there’s no room for discussion, I find it an invigorating, enchanted existence: a mix of grit and
grandeur, which I can appreciate even as a galley slave. Deck scrubbing and whale watching; barked orders and bird calls; futtock shrouds and misty sunsets. “It’s all good,” grins the bosun. And he’s right.

Jump Ship

If you fancy a life on the ocean wave, your first port of call is Sail Training International – www.sailtraininginternational.org or 0239 258 6367.

WHO CAN SAIL?
Trainees can be any age from 15 upwards, and there are ships specially equipped for crewing by people with disabilities. For many people the first experience is The Tall Ships’ Races. No experience is necessary – many people taking part have never set foot on a boat before.

HOW MUCH DOES IT COST?
It varies, but bursaries and funding are available through many of the national sail training organisations. Try the following:
• The Association of Sea Training Organisations – www.asto.org /0239 250 3222
• At Sea Sail Training – www.atseasailtraining.com can help you find a voyage to suit your requirements and budget
• The Tall Ships People – www.tallshipspeople.com coordinate crew for the Tall Ships fleet. The Jean de la Lune is not currently taking on passengers or crew, but can be visited at Ocean Terminal in Edinburgh.

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