They started to get ready to sail to the Faroes, a group of islands that were a milestone in Brendan's journey. They had a Doubting Thomas who was sure that they were going to sink. He kept asking sea-wise questions, and always ended with "I wouldna want to sail with you." Arthur mimicked him, his Irish accent turned Sots for a moment and uttered a mocking warning--"We're all doomed! Aye, we're doomed for sure!" Edan also banished any despondency. They were ready to take off when he said he had forgotten something. Almost an hour later he came back running. He had found the last bottle of Pimms in Stornoway. He also tried to grow watercress seeds, but a wave washed it overboard. As for the Pimms, he accidentally knocked it over with his foot and spilled the contents into he bilge.
Edan and the Skipper divided the cooking, so Arthur and George did the dishes. No one bothered to shave or wash, because it would have been a waste of fresh water and there was no need. The leather and the sheepskins smelled far worse than they ever would.
Each person had his own area of responsibility. George made regular inspections of the sailing gear, and they were constantly needing to repair ropes that had gotten frayed or mend a tear or sail. Every piece of cordage needed constant adjustment, because the flax ropes stretched slack when dry and shrank into iron rods when wet. It was best to stretch them taut when dry, then keep them wet with sea water. Arthur was the photographer, and he had a way with them, keeping them working in spite of the salt that clogged the shutters. The skipper had charge of navigation and radio communications. He would try to establish contact every 24 hours, and he often succeeded. The radio was amazing, holding up under much abuse. It was powered by car batteries, which were recharged by Lucas solar panels that only gave a small charge. The radio operators were also helpful, listening for Brendan at a time when the airwaves weren't cluttered by other traffic.
More soon!
Bell
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