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Summary
Summary
A modern, true-life equivalent of Patrick O'Brien's popular books, this is a must-read for lovers of nautical adventure. On November 25th, 1997, a three-masted, square-rigged tall ship headed out from Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, on a voyage around the world. It would travel for more than a year and a half, calling at ports as exotic and varied as Aruba, Samoa, Bali, and Zanzibar. In Fair Wind and Plenty of It, Rigel Crockett-a man who grew up in a shipbuilding village in Nova Scotia, whose own father was a shipbuilder and mother a sailmaker-tells the true story of that journey, and of his own quest to reconcile his family legacy with his need to take part in that harrowing voyage.
Fair Wind and Plenty of It is a virtuoso debut, perfectly captured in a mariner's idiom, filled with high seas drama and human intrigue and a personal exploration of what it means to be a sailor.
Author Notes
RIGEL CROCKETT grew up in Rose Bay, near Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, and has sailed professionally in tall ships from the age of 12. He now lives in Savannah, Georgia, where he does editing work and is writing his first novel. Visit his Web site at www.tallshipadventure.com.
Reviews (4)
Publisher's Weekly Review
Crockett's engrossing memoir of working on a tall ship as it circumnavigates the globe has more than enough nautical detail for Patrick O'Brian fans, but its lasting pleasures derive from more modern sensibilities. The story begins before the Picton Castle leaves Nova Scotia, as Crockett helps in the preparations, and wonders if the rest of his family will join him on the 18-month journey (they don't). The narrative becomes half travelogue, half personal drama centered on Crockett's struggle to find a sense of belonging on board, juxtaposing the romance of the open seas with his contentious relationship with the captain (who insists the tough discipline will make Crockett a better sailor). Crockett isn't the only one who locks horns with the captain, and he finds room for quick sketches of most of his mates, from the woman who treats the crew to makeovers to the cad who runs off with the ship's cook and $4,000 earmarked for provisions. A professional sailor and first-time author, Crockett vividly portrays the difficulties of living and working with others in cramped quarters, as well as the feeling of abandon that comes upon arrival on land. The sailing elements distinguish the story from other global treks, and the voyage's scope helps it stand out from recent nautical accounts. 8 pages of b&w photos. (Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Booklist Review
When he was in his early twenties, the author signed on for a voyage around the globe with the goal of becoming a professional sailor in the world of tall ships. In the course of his 1997-99 circumnavigation on a 70-year-old vessel named the Picton Castle, Crockett became a seasoned sailor entrusted with increasing responsibilities. The crew also included those who paid $30,000 for the experience of working on a sailing ship, and the differences between theirs and the paid crew's motivations soon becomes a source of tension. Many amateur sailors could not hack the work or tolerate the quasi-military hierarchy and discipline of ship life. Consequently, dozens disembarked en route, and two absconded with ship funds. Interpersonal tensions may generate the story line, but Crockett's introspection flavors the chronicle and will be of high interest. He confides his emotions as praise or reproof descends from the captain, as he thinks about a girlfriend back home in Canada, and as he meets islanders in the South Pacific. Crockett's once-in-a-lifetime journey will be an attractive vicarious experience for nautical buffs. --Gilbert Taylor Copyright 2005 Booklist
Kirkus Review
A journeyman sailor spends over a year before the mast in a circumnavigation of the globe. In 1997, the Picton Castle, a three-masted ship, traveled from Nova Scotia and back again via the Panama Canal, Tahiti, Zanzibar, and other exotic locales. Half its crew of 20 or so paid more than $30,000 to participate in the adventure. Others, like first-time author Crockett, signed up for meager wages. Crockett describes jibs, topsails, royal yards, main lower shrouds, and other minutiae with the reverence of a guide leading tourists through a medieval cathedral. Problem is, unlike a tour guide, he doesn't define his terms, often leaving laypeople to wade through impenetrable nomenclature: "Her impressive rig was now catching the wind, heeling the ship as if she were sailing that breeze under lower topsails." More engaging is the portrayal of life at sea among crew members--their grousing, romances, and varying work ethics lead a reader to conclude that little has changed since the 19th century. The crusty captain and first mate demand that orders be followed as in the military, a policy that grates against fare-paying passengers, who signed up to tie knots, enjoy sunsets, and feel the wind against their faces, not swab decks and paint railings. At times, it feels as if a mutiny is afoot, but that danger recedes as angry members of the crew quit the voyage at the various paradisiacal ports where the ship calls. The paradises provide rich diversions for the reader, too. Scenes of islanders rowing up to the ship in dugout canoes, surfers in the Galápagos laughing at the crew's antics, and Polynesians giving the author a tattoo are welcome respites from the painstakingly detailed account of working a sailing ship. Anyone who regularly hugs the coast in a smaller craft will enjoy Crockett's tale and find reason to envy him. Others will wait to see the movie. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Library Journal Review
In 1997, Crockett, a Nova Scotia native who has been sailing professionally since age 12, set out on a three-masted, square-rigged tall ship to sail around the world. In over a year, the Picton Castle called on various ports, some familiar (Bermuda, Aruba, the Gal pagos) and some unfamiliar (Pitcairn Island, Gizo, the Seychelles). Along the way, the captain lost a good portion of the crew (not to death, thankfully, but to general disgruntlement) and one cat (alas, to death) and saw several relationships, both platonic and romantic, form and then crumble. Those who did stay aboard (including a new cat) are tested and ultimately persevere. Unfortunately-if not surprisingly-landlubbers may find the detailed descriptions of all things nautical about as interesting as watching paint dry. The repetitive recounting of what the crew did in each port, looking to get drunk, high, or laid, gets tiring fast; one would think that with all those fascinating ports of call they could have found something more edifying to do. Then again, spending weeks on end in a cramped ship in tossing seas would probably drive anyone to drink. Only for libraries with sizable maritime collections.-Lee Arnold, Historical Soc. of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
This is the pleasure of life at sea,-fine weather, day after day, without interruption,-fair wind, and plenty of it,-and homeward bound. -Richard Henry Dana, from Two Years Before the Mast , 1840 Chapter 1: Gale Warning 25 November 1997 Beginning of World Circumnavigation Bound for Panama from Lunenburg Harbour, Nova Scotia, Canada As evening deepened, swells grew high. Driven across the North Atlantic, they rolled under us and smashed into white against the snowy bluffs that cradled Lunenburg Bay. The Picton Castle had felt so large and steady there. Now, as we ploughed into the wide ocean - pitching, rolling, testing the concrete ballast that we'd poured - she felt small. I tightened my grip on her wheel for balance and thought of our thirty green fare-paying crew. Most, unaccustomed to rough nights underway, grew seasick and cold on deck and below. We pressed farther from land and the strengthening wind piled the swells steeper. It kicked up whitecaps, tore them into spray. The air was below freezing. I pulled my hat down over my ears, lifted my wool collar against the cold wind that blew over the stern. The ship, 179 feet overall, rocked so that her iron freeing ports, meant to shed water from the deck, opened and slammed shut with a string of clanging reports. In a still harbour the deck sat just three and a half feet above surface. In a rolling sea, water sprayed aboard on the low side and surged across the deck in torrents. She was wetter than I'd thought she'd be. Above the engine's deep chug, a near gale-force wind whistled in our new rigging. It had been a while since a square-rigger had sailed out of Lunenburg harbour. From the 1860s to the 1880s, Lunenburg was home to an impressive fleet of twenty-five to thirty square-riggers that carried cargoes all over the globe. By 1912, the last of them had her yards removed so she could be handled with fewer crew and scrape by for a few more years in an industry doomed to fade away. In late November 1997, I looked up to our topsails, lashed to their yards just days prior. Two on the fore, two on the main. I was impressed that the Captain had set the uppers in this wind. Twenty-five days behind schedule, he hungered to make distance south before the storms of winter could lock us in, before they could rob his last chance to hold the confidence of the fare-paying crew who'd helped finance his voyage. Chief mate Brian held the rail for balance as he walked aft from the charthouse to the end of the quarterdeck where I steered. Under the shade of his sou'wester I could see his brown, close-set eyes. He fixed them on mine, like he always did when delivering an order. "Come right to south." "Come right to south," I repeated, and then leaned into the wheel, feeling relieved to steer away from this cold, away from the disappointments of my Lunenburg summer. Crew tugged on the braces to pivot the yards as we changed course. If everything went well, we'd fetch the tropics in a week. Then the order would be steer west , and it would stay west until we'd circled the globe. Dressed in a long black raincoat and knee-high rubber boots, Captain Dan Moreland stepped from charthouse to quarterdeck and mustered his watch. I felt my toes clench in my boots and made an effort to relax. The man looked tired from our four-month sprint to ready the ship. The grey patch on the chin of his beard had grown, and his face seemed long. He spoke a couple of clipped sentences and disappeared back into his charthouse, leaving the management of his watch to Jesse, his lead able-bodied seaman. Jesse, with a few days' scruff on his cleft chin and a ponytail pressed down by his wool hat, sent one of his professional watchmates to relieve me at the helm. I walked towards the charthouse to report that I'd been relieved and noticed that many of Jesse's crew were women. Some of them looked uncomfortable, likely wondering why they'd each spent $32,500 (U.S.) to be here. "If you fall overboard," Jesse said to his watch, "jam your marlinspike in your eye, because there's no way you'll be rescued." His watch laughed nervously at the severity. I chuckled too. I was not quite so serious as Jesse. Probably it was reflected in my rank - a second-string able-bodied seaman, below the bo'sun on our watch. Still, Jesse was right. A man overboard stood next to no chance in this water. I worked my way forward to the fo'c'sle for a few hours' rest before my next watch. I climbed into my upper bunk, drew the curtain, flipped on my fifteen-watt reading light and settled my shoulders against the bulkhead. At about thirty inches, this fo'c'sle bunk was wider than most in commercial ships, and I was one of the lucky few with a porthole. No doubt it would be a luxury in the tropics, though now condensation and ocean spray obscured its glass, sparkling emerald in the starboard sidelight. I grabbed my journal from the shelf beside me. Pulling up my knees to prop the book, I slammed them noisily into the guitar I'd strapped to my overhead. I muffled the strings, and with hands stiff from cold I wrote: It has been many months since I've written an entry. I've been working like a dog on the ship and finishing my sea chest. What few thoughts I've put on paper I have sent to Ariel. These months have been poignant. I've gotten to know Dad much better. He's a sage man and carries a lot of sadness. His eyes were filled with tears when we sailed off the dock. Laurel cried on my shoulder last night. I didn't expect it -- my sister and I have been so aloof lately. I love Laurel. She seems both grown up and a little girl. Mom cried today. The last few months have held a lot of disappointment. I avoid the Captain. My father is worried about the voyage. I feel I've grown a lot here. Everyone has. Here I go. Homeward bound. From the Hardcover edition. Excerpted from Fair Wind and Plenty of It: A Modern-Day Tall-Ship Adventure by Rigel Crockett All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
Table of Contents
Map | p. vi |
Diagram | p. viii |
1 Gale Warning | p. 1 |
2 Beginnings | p. 8 |
3 Picton Castle | p. 17 |
4 Lunenburg Summer | p. 25 |
5 Breaking Away | p. 38 |
6 Sea Legs | p. 51 |
7 Chain of Command | p. 61 |
8 Rudder Unhinged | p. 68 |
9 Training | p. 82 |
10 Christmas | p. 95 |
11 Lunatic Smile | p. 103 |
12 Heaven's Gate | p. 122 |
13 Hit or Stick | p. 133 |
14 Neptune's Ghosts | p. 146 |
15 Wreck Bay | p. 163 |
16 Boiling Point | p. 171 |
17 Lost at Sea | p. 180 |
18 Roots | p. 196 |
19 New Moon | p. 202 |
20 New Skin | p. 211 |
21 The Reef of Time | p. 230 |
22 Stolen Knives | p. 242 |
23 Adoption | p. 257 |
24 Life Woven of Seabeads | p. 277 |
25 The Wind and How It Cleanses | p. 287 |
26 Magic | p. 301 |
27 Music | p. 313 |
28 Big Fish, Small Fish | p. 320 |
29 Bali | p. 332 |
30 Family | p. 341 |
31 Marcello, Jaded | p. 352 |
32 Esprit de Corps | p. 360 |
33 The Port Is Near | p. 377 |
Epilogue | p. 383 |
Acknowledgments | p. 391 |
Permissions | p. 393 |