Shortly after arriving onboard the Davidson, did I get my sea legs, or first real taste of life at sea, which turned out to be a little more hectic than life in port because of the added burden of having to stand four hour watches after a day’s work. While most of the crew hated going out to sea, I loved it. For in my awe of the incredible vastness and the magnificent beauty of the deep blue waters, that surrounded Hawaii, I had somehow stumbled upon the balm of Gilead. In the pall that overcame most of the crew, like the endless sands of a desert, I discovered an oasis, a bit of heaven on earth. And for the first time since coming onboard the ship, I experienced God in the midst of all this godlessness.
To remove myself from the hold the ship had on me, I had only to go up topside and plop myself down on a toadstool or mooring head located along the port side of the ship, just aft of the bow. Shielded, as I was here, from the salt sea spray—which often shot up over the bow as the ship cut through the surface waters of the ocean—by an umbrella of steel that stretched across the entire width of the ship, like a castle wall, I’d lose myself in the sights ’n’ sounds of the churning waters below until someone disturbed me from my contemplation to relieve the watch.
