The Long-Standing Online Campaign, beginning in Germany, travelling through Italy and Greece to the Sea of Azov.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Fighting the Euroclydon
Feb 5, 1651, Friday evening
Weather: with overcast skies and brisk temperatures, and a gentle breeze, with a prevailing wind.
You come aboard, bringing your horses with you and making yourselves ready for the continuation of the journey. The horses are soon full-sized and eating again - the crew has collected a hundred pounds of grain for them, to be sure they're well supplied.
The Bo'sun in still in command, and remains so two days later. There's no word of the Captain emerging from her cabin, and the word goes around that she has not eaten during that time. The morale of the crew is generally low, though it is not because they dislike the bo'sun. They seem to accept completely that he is in authority, even though he would not be the next in the chain of command - that would be the mates, or officers. Still, the mates obey him, they call him 'Skipper' and he treats them well ... with kid gloves, even, as he seems to know they're all worried about the Captain and where her mood might take her. (I could not find a name for him ... let's say he's Danish, and call him Viggo.
The prevailing wind is the Euroclydon, that blows hard from the northeast and curls dangerously around the southern capes of the Peloponnese this time of year. Viggo chooses ultimately not to risk the ship on the shore, and pursues a frustrated, difficult easterly course, worried of a change in the weather; he has heard that a warm crosswind from the south can gain a great deal of moisture off the Mediterranean and rain enough to swamp a boat in Winter. He wants no part of that.
The weather does turn gentle come Friday, and the boat makes good passage in a generally southeast direction, keeping the wind on her beam.
The exact placement of the ship is unknown to me just at the moment; I'll be working it out, and wanting to add a prevailing/secondary wind element to the weather generator. It's safe to say you're probably three to four hexes east of Zakynthos at this time, in waters that are variably the Mediterranean and the Sea of Crete.
From Moby Dick:
"It stood on a sharp bleak corner, where that tempestuous wind Euroclydon kept up a worse howling than ever it did about poor Paul's tossed craft. Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed. "In of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," says an old writer- of whose works I possess the only copy extant- "it maketh a marvellous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier." True enough, thought I, as this passage occurred to my mind- old black-letter, thou reasonest well. Yes, these eyes are windows, and this body of mine is the house. What a pity they didn't stop up the chinks and the crannies though, and thrust in a little lint here and there. But it's too late to make any improvements now. The universe is finished; the copestone is on, and the chips were carted off a million years ago. Poor Lazarus there, chattering his teeth against the curbstone for his pillow, and shaking off his tatters with his shiverings, he might plug up both ears with rags, and put a corn-cob into his mouth, and yet that would not keep out the tempestuous Euroclydon."