04:16.6S 108:58.7W Towards the Marquesas (3)

Meryon.bridges
Wed 14 Apr 2010 23:13
After a fairly boisterous few days with fresh breezes, choppy seas overlying majestic swells, and a few showers at night the weather has now adopted a classic trade winds image.  By day we have sparkling cobalt blue water flecked with white, convoys of fluffy white clouds draped along the horizon, a blazing sun but not uncomfortably warm air, and Ares rolling steadily on her way at between 5 and 7 knots towards the Marquesas.  By night a limitless canopy of stars dominate d by the Southern Cross is spread overhead since, at present, we have no moon.  These are blissfull conditions for sailing, and we are making steady progress.  With luck we could be half way across this bit of ocean before the next blog hits the website.
 
Aboard the all is going well.  We run the generator most days which permits us to make our own fresh water and keep abreast of consumption.  This also keeps the fridge up to speed so we are still enjoying meals of fresh meat, and our stocks of green veg, spuds and fruit are holding up, though the end of some of these is in sight.  When they have gone we still have about a million assorted tins under the cabin floor to look forward to  The imminent threat of Scurvy is still some way off.
 
Even the crew are holding up well.  The good officer Saxby is beginning to seem a little more relaxed now that our good progress is increasing the likelihood of his being home in time for the election, though Peter and Meryon are adamantly refusing any guarantees on this score.  His promises to catch a stock of fresh fish for the larder have been slipped into the Manana category and this dilatoriness is attracting some ribald comment (Holden Sahib, does this hold some resonance for you?).  Nick is enjoing the relaxation afforded by the balmy conditions, and his skills as a chef are coming on by leaps and bounds.  His corned beef hash is to die for.  There is lots of muttering about the nigardliness of the skippers in not authorising showers, baths, clothes washing, and other proposed extravagances with the ship's stock of fresh water, but we hope that by the time we reach the Marquesas these creature comforts will have come to be all the more appreciated. 
 
Apart from the ever present and almost continuous flights of gleaming silver flying fish which erupt from the water all round us, there is little wildlife to look at.  We've been visited by a few Boobies and the odd Stormy Petrel but apart from these our only contact with the animal world has been to clear the decks each morning of the regular harvest of flying fish and, surprisingly, small squid which commit suicide on board every night.
 
And that's about it for now.