And Weather a Dead Calm... Day Five in the Ocean

And weather a dead calm... Day five in the ocean. Since morning, a dead calm and heat in every direction. But at least breakfast turned out normally familiar, just like ashore. I fried up all the remaining bits and pieces of bread as French toast. All that is left now is the long-life freeze-dried brown bread. I warmed the softened biscuits from an opened packet in a dry frying pan, and with butter and the last of the cheese they passed for sandwiches too. A couple of apples between us, tea and sandwiches. Over breakfast we started watching an educational film, followed by a brilliant short that won an Oscar. And then it was time to get down to work. The captain lowered the mainsail, patched the tear by the cringle and stitched it with the hand sewing machine; Lada discovered that playing chess on the computer was easier than on the iPad and battled the robot until the sailor dragged her off to clean the cabin. I trampled in a bucketful of small items such as towels and T-shirts that had been soaking since yesterday. The captain, sweltering with the heat, prepared the mainsail for hoisting and plunged into the silky, oily ocean. The sails hung lifelessly, so there was no need even to think about clipping the swimmers to the yacht. The children jumped in after Andrei; I was left behind as collateral with Lady Mary, so that she would not take offence at being left alone and make a run for it across the ocean. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., .., ,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,, .. The junior crew member and I were the last to finish swimming; everyone else had already climbed aboard to shower. What bliss it is to have a watermaker, and so far enough sun to charge the batteries! Having our own water aboard raises our quality of life almost to heaven! No pouring water into one-and-a-half-litre bottles, no trying to spread those one-and-a-half litres over your whole body. Of course, we still ration water strictly, but whereas during our Atlantic passage the four of us used roughly 20 litres of fresh water a day, now we use the full 50, and sometimes even 100. But we need to curb our appetites: cloudy days are common. After prettily hanging the freshly washed towels all around the perimeter, I went to sort out the large locker by the galley. The things I pulled out covered the entire galley floor half a metre deep. How had all of that fitted into a single invisible locker? The junior crew member took dictation, recording how many tins of compote, how much flour and powdered milk there were in the whole pile. An army of tiny beetles had taken up residence in a sealed packet of instant mashed potato, so we sent them all for a swim. Alas, together with the mash. We moved the lifejackets beneath the saloon settee, and the captain spread the warm sailing clothes out across the deck. At once, it smelled like a cellar. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., .., ,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,, .. Meanwhile, Nastya rustled up vegetables in Chinese sauce with rice for dinner. As we watched the educational film, and then Harry Potter in English, night settled over the boat. We are eagerly waiting for the wind, and it even seems to return our feelings: it blows directly from the very point we need to sail towards, or else does not blow at all. Since lunchtime, it has been going calm again. At this rate, we will be sailing for at least a month, according to the system. We carry on with food, chess and boat chores. We encountered one booby along the way, resting on the water; it did not even turn its beak in our direction. Apart from it and us, there is not a soul in the ocean. In five days, we have seen only one ship. And now the Facebook comments have stopped coming through as well: the Social Network changed its settings, bless its heart. We will ask shore support to copy and paste your greetings into emails for us, otherwise the voyage has become altogether bleak ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., .., ,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,,.. ..,, .. ,, ,, .., ..,, .. Friends, who is reading In Search of the Castaways on even-numbered days? If you cannot be bothered, the film In Search of Captain Grant will do too. It is great—an absolute hit to watch with children! This is your homework, remember? In about ten days, we will discuss it properly. Hugs from 20 degrees south! Tomorrow they are forecasting twenty knots right on the nose. We are crawling towards it, or at least lying in its direction. May everyone have the speed they need.