Captain’s Log: Dec. 31, Willemstad, Curacao

Captain Jonathan Mercer

We are in Willemstad, Curacao, today and a beautiful day it is, too. I, like many of my associates, find entering this narrow ‘cut’ of a harbour to be one that concentrates the mind, one can almost feel the tension on the bridge when taking this ship, (or any other for that matter), into what amounts to a very narrow channel while being influenced by an extremely strong current outside the entrance, not to mention the wind.

It is a matter of heading towards the land on the eastern side of the cut and letting the current work you north; if one gets it correct, the ship should be in the centre of the fairway and pointing in the right direction. Once inside, it is a matter of slamming on the brakes, enough to stop her continuing past the berth one is intended for.

This evening we will back out, azipods being perfect for such a manoeuvre and then swing outside before heading northwest towards Fort Lauderdale for Saturday.

I have my trunks in the cabin, for it is almost time to leave the lovely ‘E’ and head home, Jeroen (and Pam) rejoin on Saturday until March, when I return.

I have thoroughly enjoyed posting on the blog and although I am not commanding the ‘E’, should I catch that elusive 20-pound trout, or break an 80 on the golf course, rest assured you will read about it. I am going to Europe, too, to see my family and spend some time over there.

I apologise for not writing more often recently, as I mentioned, paperwork and ship-matters have occupied a great deal of my time these past weeks, however, that is all but finished now. Perhaps one of my New Year resolutions should be to write more here?

I wish all of you a very happy New Year and may 2009 bring you all you wish for and more. Let us all hope that that it will be a better year and that we remain optimistic.

We will be in the Atrium at midnight, ringing in the new year with the ‘E’s’ polished bell and all of us, guests, officers and crew alike, will be thinking of friends and family while we do so.

Best wishes,

Jonathan

Captain’s Log: Dec. 25, at Sea

We have had a lovely Christmas. Yesterday, the 24th, we were docked in a windy Philipsburg, St. Maarten. There were five big cruise ships in and it was consequently very busy.

The large swell was rolling into the bay despite the headland which protects the harbour and we had put additional mooring lines out. It was just as well, with the constant ‘up and down’ alongside the berth, one of the aft lines chafed through. The four ships alongside the pier were all moving quite considerably, and I saw the crew of each ship having to tend lines too.

We left late, six older teenagers, arriving well after sailing time — 40 minutes after all-aboard. They were lucky, in the old days, before security checks and computer swipe-on, they would have been unknowingly left in St. Maarten, having to return to the U.S., clad only in swimming gear and a towel. That would have been a sight to see.

We had gales forecast and sure enough, during the night, we rolled somewhat, despite the use of our stabilisers. We did, however, have a wonderful evening of festivities, culminating in an evening carol service, the participants being the Indonesian, Filipino and ‘International’ choirs. They sang their hearts out and then, after my Christmas address, they were meant to sing ‘Silent Night’, holding candles, on the stage. Despite rehearsals and constant oversight, no one had foreseen that the stage curtain has a fail-safe option, if ‘people’ or persons are too near the curtain when it starts to lift, the circuits deliberately switch off. So there they were, singing from behind a curtain that wouldn’t lift! Some quick improvisation saw them exiting stage left and right instead.

Our long-range radar detected a very small target at 9:15 on Christmas morning and an information announcement was duly made to the boys and girls (and their Mums and Dads). By 9:30, although flitting behind some of the clouds, our lookouts had positively identified what appeared to be a sleigh, reindeer and a portly man, dressed in red and white. By 9:45 there were reports from the technical staff that someone could be seen on the closed-circuit television, trying to climb down one of our funnels! A (slightly dishevelled) Santa Claus arrived on our main stage, the show lounge and excited children were brought to him, with their families, to receive ‘goodies’ from him, lots of happy, excited faces! I always go down and watch this. It is what Christmas is all about and this was no exception. It always takes me back to the days when my girls were such an age.

The evening saw me, with many of the officers, serving our wonderful crew in their dining area. It’s a tradition with our fleet and makes for a great time. Then it was time for an officers cocktail party, followed by our Christmas dinner and then an early night, to catch up on some sleep. Half Moon Cay beckons us …

Captain’s Log: Dec. 22, Grand Turk

What a wonderful morning we have had. We docked on time at 7 a.m., on a beautiful sunny day and of course, we had to, we had the kindergarten children and their teachers coming!

Volunteers from all departments were in abundance, all wearing ‘Santa’ hats and they met the children at the entrance to the pier, escorting them in a ‘crocodile’ to the gangway.

Crew Purser Melissa (right with Santa hat) escorts the children on board.

Their eyes were as big as saucers as they looked up at the towering ‘E’ above them and then they were on the gangway and inside.

Elevators, most of them had never been in one, mouths open in amazement as they ascended to the Canaletto section of our Lido restaurant, where mini-burgers, pizza, hot dogs and ice cream awaited them.

It may have been 9:30 in the morning, but that didn’t stop them eating as if it were their last meal! Helium-filled balloons decorated their tables and their excitement grew as they overcame their initial nervousness and became familiar with all our ‘helpers’.

Guests stopped by to watch and enjoy, many of them remarking how wonderful it was and how much they enjoyed the excitement of the children, very true, it was infectious.

Captain Mercer and Internet Manager Jelena Stefanovic enjoyed spending the morning with the kids.

Next, the Northern Lights dance club, where they had 15 minutes of ‘Rockin’ and Rollin’ to the music before they were escorted to the Show Lounge. Here they were treated to Yakov, one of our acts, who did animal impersonations and some tricks. And then, our wonderful cast gave them a performance of some of their repertoire.

Yakov entertaining the children.

The production cast performed a few whimsical numbers for the kids.

Suddenly, Santa appeared, what a surprise! With mouths agape, the children were invited to the front of the stage where Santa’s helpers dispensed presents galore. The balloons were forgotten in the rush to unwrap (and we now have the task of removing them from the high deckhead, no matter, all in a day’s work).

The children left, loaded with their ‘goodies’, all of them happy and laughing.

Hope de Vries, wife of chief engineer Frank, says goodbye to the children and she helps them with their new goodies.

What a great end to a wonderful morning.

Photos courtesy of Jonathan Mercer.

Captain’s Log: Dec. 19, Half Moon Cay

Captain Jonathan Mercer

I write this at anchor, at Half Moon Cay. Yup, I made it this week and thankfully the sun is shining, the beach is golden and our guests are lovin’ life. They deserve to, the week thus far has been, once again, rough. In fact I can’t remember a winter season quite as bad, weatherwise, that is.

When we left Port Everglades last Saturday, I had to wait for the “Independence of the Seas” to sail, it being so windy that I didn’t want to risk trying to pass her in the narrow waterway.

Our voyage to Grand Turk was in strong northeasterlies and a big Atlantic swell and then, when we got to Grand Turk, on account of the northeasterly wind, my first attempt at docking proved fruitless, the challenge being that one couldn’t get ‘high’ enough to allow for the effect of the wind pushing us down towards the pier. I had a second go, having down a ‘wheelie’ and a different approach, this time with the officer on the port bridge wing calling out distances off the reef on the port side, the water being so clear that one could see where it shallowed. We ‘crabbed’ in, everything going, pushing (or keeping) us upwind until the point of no return;( this is when one is so far into the berth, that landing on it is the better option, as opposed to aborting and trying to get out). No dings in the hull and guests ashore, enjoying themselves, mission accomplished.

There was no let-up in the weather to San Juan, although the weather on docking was kinder to us than on the previous occasion. We left on schedule for St. Thomas, little knowing that 24 hours later we would be back in the same berth.

Crown Bay, St. Thomas and we are dwarfed by a behemoth, the Queen Mary 2 is alongside with us. She looks magnificent and that bow — wow! I wish we on the ‘E’ had such a sleek, ‘wave cutting’ design. On the other hand, she is designed for the winter North Atlantic at 32 knots, she needs it more than us.

I had previously written to the QM2’s master, asking his permission for our officers to visit them, and this was cordially accepted. Over 40 of our officers were given a wonderful tour. When we departed, before her, she took the opportunity to sound her whistles. Heavens! They nearly blew my socks off, magnificent — deep, resounding tones. Now that’s what I call a ‘whistle’! Ours, in return, seemed somewhat pitiful compared with hers, but hey, the guests on both vessels thoroughly enjoyed it!

Off we went towards Half Moon Cay, however, two hours after leaving (and with the QM2 on our starboard quarter, doing 27 knots, for heaven’s sake), I received a call from the infirmary, a heart attack and a serious one, disembarkation was a must and soon.

I decided to make for San Juan. Both St. Thomas and San Juan were almost equidistant, however, if I made San Juan, I could make half Moon Cay as well. If I went back to St. Thomas, I wouldn’t be able to. Pedal to the metal we steamed for San Juan and two hours later we were off the port. The pilot boat, attempting to be proactive, had come out to meet us, but the swell and wind were dangerously high and instead he followed me into the Bay of San Juan, where he boarded. Back into #4 berth, this time with no lines ashore and just holding her with thrusters and Azipods against the pier. Twelve minutes later, our guest in an ambulance and on his way to hospital, we backed out and departed San Juan for the second time this week. (I’m told we made it just in time, our guest went into the ICU on arrival at the hospital and after sterling work by hospital staff — and ours of course — the gentlemen had stabilised by early morning. It’s always heartening to know that our work has such pleasant results).

So, another ‘bouncy’ trip north and here we are, sun at last and time for me to write. We have all sorts planned for next week’s festivities, however, the one I’m really looking forward to is the visit of 50 kindergarten-age children from the school on Grand Turk. The islanders are still suffering the effects of Hurricane Ike, so anything we can do to make their Christmas better has got to be good. We have Santa coming early and the cast are planning one of their shows on stage for them. It should be absolutely marvellous, for them and us.

All I have to do now is dock there. Watch this space …

John Heald Interviews Captain Mercer

Captain Mercer addresses the audience before introducing his fellow officers on a recent cruise.

John Heald, senior cruise director for Carnival Cruise Lines, recently interviewed Captain Jonathan Mercer, master of Eurodam, for his blog. As he has done in the past, John graciously gave us permission to post the interview here.

John Heald: Captain, let’s go back to the start of your career and can you tell us about your journey that led you to be master of the Eurodam?

Jonathan Mercer: I am often asked if other members of the family went to sea, the answer being ‘No’. I was the first that I know of, (unless some distant relative roamed the oceans in search of booty and plunder).

I started my career in 1968 as an apprentice with the British & Commonwealth shipping company and stayed with them until I sat for and obtained my master’s certificate in late 1979. By that time, the 84 ships of their fleet had dwindled to a mere few.

Fate always seems to play her hand with me, in regard to employment, that is. On the train to my apprentice interview, the gentleman sitting opposite me in the train carriage was a captain with the company I was interviewing with. In 1979, when I was considering my career options, I met my Marine Superintendent on a train and by the time I got off at Chester railway station, I had decided to leave — the prospects were not good.

I had a young family, so decided to join a ferry company. In those days, all their deck officers had to have masters certificates, so I moved to Kent and plied the English Channel routes, first as second officer and culminating in command in 1988, I stayed with them until 1994.

At that time, disillusioned with the way matters were going with management style and work schedules, I left and joined the Channel Tunnel group as terminal manager. This was fun, however, I missed the sea and fortuitously, I was contacted a year or so later by an agency which had been tasked with recruiting British officers for Holland America. They were looking for a British captain who had considerable ship-handling experience and wouldn’t put big dents in their lovely new ship ☺. Well, here I am, almost 14 years later.

JH: This I know is going to be a nearly impossible question to answer but … if you were to write the most basic of job descriptions for today’s cruise ship captain, what would it look like?

JM: In short: CEO, lawyer, priest, father confessor, human resources director, psychiatrist, mediator, entertainer and comedian.
Seriously though, the captain has enormous legal powers and is responsible in all aspects of his ship. The captain has absolute command. He holds the safety of his vessel, his guests and crew in his hands.
Captain Stubing [of “The Love Boat” television series] has a great deal to answer for. I have yet to meet a captain who walks his decks with gorgeous blondes on his arm, cocktail in hand and parties all day. (Should you happen to know of one, do let me know, I’ll send them my resume.) ☺

JH: What has been the most rewarding moment so far in your career?

JM: There are several I can think of, however, the most vivid one is the day I took my ship to sea as master for the first time.

JH: And, the most challenging?

JM: When I was working for the ferry company. It was involved in an incident, in which lives were lost. The challenge was mental rather than physical — I lost 30 good friends and went to innumerable funerals. It broke many of my associates and almost broke me. It was in the days before counselling was a recognised form of therapy. We were on our own, left to deal with it as best we could. I was lucky, I got through it, others didn’t.

JH: What would you say are the most important changes that have occurred in the last few years that have made your job of navigating a ship like the Eurodam that much easier?

JM: First and foremost it would be the introduction of electronic navigation systems. I used celestial navigation for the first 12 years of my career. Now, with the advent of global positioning systems, (satellites), even an amateur could navigate an ocean. I would have to say that being the prudent seaman I consider myself, I would add that these are aids to navigation, they are not foolproof and many of the traditional methods are still very important.

The changes I have seen are mind-boggling. The bridge equipment, computerisation, propulsion systems, would be unrecognisable to a seaman 30 years ago. For example, my first ship, built in 1950, had a gyro compass that looked as if it were driven by steam and took up the space of an entire room. Now, you can (almost) fit one in the palm of your hand.

JH: Holland America has a certain something , something special that makes it so popular the world over. What in your opinion is that special something?

JM: One could put two identical ships next to each other and yet they would be different because of their crew. It is the crew that makes a ship and we in Holland America have wonderful Indonesian and Filipino crew, so first and foremost, this is what sets us apart and above all others. Close behind comes the décor and ambience of our ships, we take our position as a leader in premium cruising very seriously and this is reflected in the way in which our ships are designed and managed — everything from the artwork, the fresh flowers and the classic styling are superb.

JH: The social side of being a captain on a cruise ship is very important. What are your social responsibilities on board?

JM: Please refer this question to Captain Stubing …

A very important aspect of a Captain’s position is that of ‘being seen’, by both guests and crew alike, so this is an important social function. I have ‘Introductions’, when I introduce the ship’s senior staff on stage, cocktail parties and social gatherings such as ‘Meet the Captain’, when guests can ask any questions they like; well almost any question …

JH: Now to the blog. Firstly let me congratulate you on your brilliant writing, and I, like thousands of others am a regular reader. Can you tell us about how often you write and what you personally enjoy about sharing your Captain’s Log with us all?

JM: Thank you for the compliment, John. Coming from you it is praise indeed. Until I took command of the ‘E’, I hadn’t even read a blog, even though I consider myself very much computer literate. It was a new world for me and although I keep a journal, baring one’s soul to the world was a new experience for me. I find ‘journaling’ very therapeutic actually, however, I am taking it in small steps. I love your blog, it has me laughing out loud and there’s nothing like a British sense of humour.

The Eurodam’s blog is somewhat different, less personalised and more to do with events on our lovely ship. There is nothing I would like more than to inform our readers of some of the more ‘interesting’ aspects of shipboard life, however, it is a very fine line we tread. I try to write at least twice a week, however, recently I have lapsed, mainly because I have had other matters to deal with. I am nearing the end of my contract and soon go on leave, so paperwork is occupying more of my time than usual.

JH: How do you relax on board and what are your shoreside hobbies?

JM: ‘Relaxing’ is a difficult term, one never completely relaxes, it’s a 24/7 position. Even if I were to go ashore, one can never completely relax. Ironically, in today’s legislative environment, a captain might still be considered responsible even if he is two miles away on a golf course.

On board I enjoy reading and amateur photography. At home it is an entirely different matter. I love golf, (although after some time at sea, the results are not what one would wish for). I am fortunate that I have grass-flats near my house and you will find me out on them in the early morning, fly rod in hand, trying to catch the pesky trout and redfish. I have a small boat and enjoy going out with friends, coolers and all, for a jaunt.

JH: Finally and as is tradition it is time for you to tell us your ultimate Captain’s table. Let’s start with the menu. Please choose your favourites from the Eurodam restaurants and private dining facilities.

JM:

Choice of 2 appetisers
Pate de Fois Gras
Streetside Pot Stickers, from our Tamarind restaurant

Choice of 2 main courses
Beef Wellington
Hoisin Lime-Glazed Sea Bass, again from the Tamarind

Choice of 2 deserts
Dutch Apple pie
Ginger banana bread pudding, with tempura bananas and caramel sauce (Tamarind)

You may well realise by now that our Tamarind restaurant is superlative! ☺

JH: Now your table companions. Somebody from the cruise industry.

JM: Micky Arison and his wife, Madeleine. Several years ago, in the company of my wife and several of her girlfriends, I had the pleasure of sharing a table with them. The evening was both entertaining and extremely enjoyable.

JH: Your favourite actor.

JM: Sean Connery.

JH: Your favourite actress.

JM: Catherine Zeta Jones.

JH: A beautiful lady.

JM: I’d be hung from the yardarm if I didn’t say my wife.

JH: Someone to make you laugh.

JM: Tommy Cooper.

JH: Someone from history you wish you had met.

JM: Blackbeard. I would love to know where he buried all that loot …

Photo courtesy of guest John Majors.

Captain’s Log: Dec. 14, San Juan

Captain Jonathan Mercer

Remiss of me, I know, however the past week seems to have flown by and little time for ‘blogging’, so to make amends I have deliberately made time to sit at my desk and write.

As you know, last Sunday found me off Half Moon Cay, conducting a medevac, before proceeding towards San Juan. Fortunately, because the diversion was relatively short in distance and time, we only need one of our smaller 8-cylinder diesels for a while, to regain the lost hours, thereby minimising our fuel usage.

I don’t often write about docking procedures. To our guests it should (and does, I trust), appear to be a seamless operation. There are times, though, that the ship and her capabilities are tested to their fullest, and Tuesday was one such day.

The morning of the arrival at San Juan brought us very strong easterly winds of +35 knots, caused by a high-pressure system to the north of us. As in previous arrivals, the sea-state was not at all suitable for embarking a pilot outside the approaches, so I told them to stay inside in the relative comfort of calmer water and I would come to them.

The entrance to San Juan harbour is a narrow one, marked by a buoyed channel, with El Morro to port and some nasty shallow reefs to starboard, (on which there was a spectacular swell breaking). With the wind as it was, I made an ‘unconventional’ approach — had I stayed on the leading lights, the wind would have had too much effect and pushed us down towards the reef. So I decided to go well east of the leading lights and then sweep in, more like an approach from St. Thomas.

As we got closer to the buoys, I let the wind, which has a huge effect on us, push the stern downwind (and consequently the bow upwind), it worked out perfectly and we entered the channel just as intended. Now it was time to put the brakes on, because I had kept the speed up, (to reduce the wind’s effect) and now had to slow down for the channel and the pilot. This was achieved, however, as we cleared the lee of the Old Town, the wind struck us again, sweeping down the intended approach and near the ‘E’s’ capabilities.

We were stemmed for #4 pier on the west side, which meant we had to, at some point, turn beam on to the wind. We crept up towards the end of the pier, head to wind and then, when 80 metres or so off it, I let the bow fall off the wind. Whoops, bad timing! Just as I did so, mother nature decided to throw a very strong gust of wind at us, no way would she handle that! A quick abort and pushing the bow back, we waited, head-to-wind, watching the anemometer.

A few minutes later and the gust had passed, I tried again, passing the end of the pier by metres, the thrusters going full power towards it, yet still we got no closer. It was the point of no return, I had to get the bow in the lee of the (relatively) high terminal building, once inside that, life would be easier, (a little anyway), so I picked up speed, one pod holding the stern away from #3 pier and the bow as close as possible to #4. We ‘shot’ forward, getting into the slip as fast as prudent seamanship allowed. Sure enough, although our superstructure towered over the terminal, there was a little respite on the bow and we got alongside and in position. Frank de Vries, our Chief Engineer (and of Sinterklaas fame), told me afterwards that we were maxed-out on the thrusts, there wasn’t another kilowatt left while we were docking.

Some lines ashore and then, the wind increased, full power on thrusters and pods again and even though we had all our lines out, for the next four hours, with winds up to 40 knots, I kept the thrusters and pods running — we needed to, just to ensure undue strain wasn’t being put on our lines.

Continue reading Captain’s Log: Dec. 14, San Juan…

Captain’s Log: Dec. 7, At Sea

Not quite the day at sea I was expecting. At 4:30 a.m. the telephone next to my bed abruptly woke me, a call from our medical department that a guest was indicating heart problems and she needed intense medical attention. Up to the bridge, still in PJs and dressing gown (one has to maintain some decorum ☺). A look at the chart and what option is available to me. Hmmnn, Nassau is a possibility, however, so is Half Moon Cay and that is south of us, it won’t involve as much delay, as we are at the northern end of Eleuthra Island.

We change our course and the telephone calls begin. Island Manager, Air Ambulance services and eventually US Coast Guard as well. It transpires that the air ambulance float-plane, which is capable of landing on the lagoon at HMC, is unavailable. The only option is a Lear jet into Eleuthra, so now I need the USCG’s assistance to get our guest from HMC to Eleuthra.

I can’t speak highly enough of the USCG. Yes, they carry out inspections of the ‘E’ regularly, however, that is for our safety, they are looking after our interests. When it comes to being in a tight spot, such as this one, they excel. I have seen helicopter pilots and crew hover over the foredeck of my ship, in a force-8 gale with driving rain, at night, no less, and a steeply heaving deck, with precision. They are, in my book, the best of the best.

A call to their Operations center in Miami and the ball started rolling, first of all details, patient’s condition, position of ship … an endless list, however, all with a purpose — the safe evacuation of my guest. We arrive off the island at 0830. The Statendam is there on her regular call. We drift on engines away from her, preparing our side doors for the imminent arrival of a shore tender to take our guest and patient ashore.

Here is the timeline —
0830: arrive off the island
0850: the patient is ashore, waiting by the helipad
0915: the USCG helicopter lands
0925: helicopter takes off
0940: helicopter arrives at Rocky Island airstrip, where the Lear jet is waiting
1010: I receive a message from the air-ambulance company that the patient is in Fort Lauderdale, estimated time of arrival at the hospital in 20 minutes!!

Wow! That is what I’m talking about. ☺

It’s an unbelievably intricate operation, requiring communication, co-operation and skill, but lord, how it works!

Photo courtesy of Jonathan Mercer

Captain’s Log: Dec. 5, Port Everglades

Today we are in Port Everglades and the blog is not about the ‘E’, but another ship in our fleet, in particular the “Statendam” and her Captain, Jack van Coevorden.

After 45 years of service with HAL, Jack docked his ship for the last time today. Jack was the second captain I sailed with during my familiarisation with HAL in the early years, and coincidentally, I took command of the Ryndam from him, some three years later. At that time, he held a small reception for me with his officers and handed over a massive brass key so large I could hardly carry it, (which may have been the intention ☺ He had a wicked sense of humour). Jack had brought out the Ryndam, from building, and I knew it held a special place in his heart.

Now it was his turn to walk down the gangway. I and our port operations manager had tried during the week to organise his passing of the ‘E’ while we were docked, however, the schedule was against us and the Statendam had her pilot early, she subsequently docked to the south of us on pier 29, while we docked, as usual, at 26.

So we asked the Statendam’s officer of the watch to let us know when Jack was making his way towards the gangway. A tug with its water-spray was lurking near her bow and as Jack walked towards his waiting car, a cacophony of whistles, from the ‘E’ and the “Statendam” rent the air for several minutes, water sprayed in a cascading fountain.

We wished him well from the bridge of the ‘E’, although he wouldn’t know it. A huge limo was waiting at the gangway, (which in these security-conscious times is a feat in itself) and then, escorted by a convoy of officials and longshoremen, Jack was gone.

I had a lump in my throat, heaven knows how Jack felt ….

Photo courtesy Jonathan Mercer

Captain’s Log: Nov. 30, at Sea

Another turn-round day is behind us and we are on our way to have ‘another go’ at Grand Turk. This time of year sees regular cold fronts traversing the Florida peninsula and this cruise is no exception, however, we appear to be a day ahead of this one.

After last week’s weather, anything is an improvement, and today we have southerly winds, unusual for this area. When we arrived in San Juan last week, after our eventful (weather-wise) voyage south, our lovely dark-blue hull looked as if we had been in a snowball fight, the salt caked so thick in places that copious amounts of fresh water were needed to rinse it off. Not just the hull, our superstructure was also affected and it was only on this call in Port Everglades that we eventually managed to get it down to acceptable proportions.

Yesterday was a busy one for us. Every 90 days our crew have to go through a CBP (Customs and Border Protection) inspection, basically to verify that we are all here, working with correct visas or documentation, entitling us to enter the U.S. every week. With almost 900 crew this takes time, and so yesterday we arrived early.

This was not as straightforward as it may seem, the cruise-ship season is in full swing in Port Everglades now and we were one of eight ships scheduled to arrive, two of them massive monsters — the QM2 and the “Independence of the Seas”. The Harbor Master has to juggle the timing of each vessel, trying to avoid conflicts in vessels passing each other in the narrow Intracoastal berths, (29, 26 and 25) and make sure each vessel has an appointed time ‘slot’ to facilitate this.

We are given times at the pilot station, 15 minutes apart. This, theoretically, gives each ship time to get down the channel, on the leading lights and clear those lights before the next one comes in. We followed the “Carnival Miracle“ and the captain wasted no time on swinging off the leads (lights), thereby allowing us to gain precious minutes and enter sooner. The entire early morning is a delicate ballet of ships, each arriving for their ‘slot’ with precision and doing their utmost to ensure there are no delays for the others.

Early morning and the ‘Ruby Princess’ entering, the ‘Enchantment of the Seas’ starts her approach, while the ‘Independence of the Seas’ waits for her slot.

The CBP were arriving at 0545 and we had the gangway in at 0546, so there was no delay for them boarding and starting the inspection. We also had ‘heavy load’ — every alternate week we schedule our stores load for all the ordered parts we expect, everything from machinery spares to items for the hotel department. This is as well as our ‘normal’ loading of fresh produce and our bunkering of fuel, in this case 1,150 tonnes of heavy fuel oil. Not to mention guest baggage off and on, so, contrary to what one might think, Saturdays can be even more hectic than a ‘normal’ cruise day. On the ‘light load’ days, we still have fuel, baggage and fresh produce to take care of, coping with this, all in the space of 10 or so hours, needs excellent co-operation from ship and shore alike.

Departures can be just as hectic. Although we are all given 15-minute slots for arrival, departure is a case of ‘first come, first served’, inasmuch as that each cruise ship informs the port control when they are absolutely ready for departure. We then sort out in what order we will depart through communication with our individual pilots.

We were ready before the behemoth, ”Independence of the Seas“, which was docked ahead of us in berth 25. Had the weather (wind) been stronger, or from another direction, I would have had to stay put, until she had sailed, the room in the Intracoastal Waterway, when passing her, is ‘tight’ to put it mildly. However, yesterday the wind was light and therefore passing her was an option. Even so, some delicate manoeuvring was required, ensuring that we gave sufficient room between her and us, without getting too close to the shallows on the other side. As we passed her, our guests and hers were exchanging shouts and waves, the noise, through the open bridge-wing window, was deafening. The ”Carnival Miracle“ preceded us and then it was our turn to depart. Obviously, we were concentrating on the bridge, no time to take photos, so here is a photo of the manoeuvre as seen from our bridge, when the ”Carnival Miracle“ passed.

‘Carnival Miracle’ passes the ‘E’ in the Intracoastal Waterway at Port Everglades.

Photos courtesy of Jonathan Mercer.

Captain’s Log: Friday, Nov. 28, Half Moon Cay

Our voyage north from St. Thomas has been much more pleasant, compared with our voyage south. The northeasterly winds have abated and the swell eased, so our guests are enjoying the sun and relatively smooth seas.

Today we are at our private island, Half Moon Cay, so named after its gorgeous half moon–shaped beach. It is charted as Little San Salvador and lies to the east of Eleuthra Island and to the west of Cat Island.

As with most islands in the area, it has a steeply shelving (aka vertical) wall and then a gently shelving beach. There is no berth, although over the years there have been attempts at drawing plans for one. The challenge is that there is no perfect place for a berth, taking into account prevailing winds and the depth of water involved, a pier would need to extend into water far too deep to be feasible.

Mooring buoys were discussed too, however, captains were hesitant to tie up to these, considering the fickleness of the weather and the possible necessity of having to move away from the beach in inclement weather. So, we anchor. I let go the anchor with 10 metres (+30 feet) under the bulbous bow and then work the anchor cable west, so that it lies along the 10-metre shelf. Our stern incidentally, is in water over 60 metres (200 feet), so you can see how quickly the depth falls away.

I have pasted a snapshot of our radar this morning. The two dotted blue lines are our PIs (or Parallel Index) and are centred on ‘lonesome rock,’ as I call it, an outcrop of rock near the marina entrance. The PIs give the officer of the watch an immediate indication of any dragging of the anchor. If we move, the PIs move with us, thus indicating dragging. The light blue is shallow water, less than 10 metres, (although the chart symbols superimposed on the radar are not accurate to the consistency we desire and should not be used for anything other than a rough guide. We use accurate survey charts for our purposes).

Just to the right of the ship outline is a small ‘anchor’ symbol. This is where we let go our anchor and ‘worked’ our way west, paying out chain as we did so.

The marina channel can be seen as a dark line to the right of ‘lonesome rock.’ The lagoon, where we have our stingray experience and water sports, can be seen as blue area, at the 3 o’clock position.

True wind is shown on the circular indicator, centre right.

Here are the pictures that you would normally see!