Friday, May 2nd,This day began late, with a car ride down to the Museum and arriving there at around 10:30. I worked on the wheel for a while, joined by one of my crewmates, until we noticed these wonderful things we call “guns” arrive onboard. Most people refer to them as “cannons,” which in fact is incorrect when using them nautically. We call them guns, and the balls we fire from them are called “shot”.
Anyway, two little guns made their appearance on the deck. They were so small, they could be carried easily by two people. However, their arrival signaled better things to come, and we abandoned the wheel in favor of assisting the placement of the guns below decks. This was accomplished with sweat and toil, and we added two more guns to the company of the small ones, including a true 6 pounder. This is still a small gun, in the ranks of guns, but it packs a punch and makes a lot of noise. By the end of the afternoon, Timmy, Lassie, and Toto, the small guns, were on their platforms, followed by Muffy, Homer and Pearl, the 6 pounder. I left after Pearl had a home, since I had to go earn money for real work (yeah, right).
Saturday, May 3rd,This day began before the sun rose. I climbed wearily out of bed, reluctant to leave behind only 3 hours of sleep following the closing shift at Starbucks. However, the day promised great things, so I managed. I picked up my contribution to the ship’s rations and made my way down to the Museum. Once the rum and ship’s biscuit were loaded into the galley (the coffee and every marked out pastry I could get my hands on last night), I helped the gunners carry on their supplies.
They seemed to be a lively bunch, happy to be there, and happy to be able to oblige our desperate need to prove our war-like capabilities. Last November’s three weeks of taunting ships with useless words and bananas shaken by our angry fists were finally over. Now we have a 6 gun broadside.
A couple of hours later found us out in the harbor, getting our feet wet, so to speak. The Fleet Week parade that we were supposed to be a part of wasn’t going to be underway for a couple more hours, so we had lots of time to kill. This time was spent well, with copious amounts of laying about the deck snoozing punctuated by brief periods of sail setting and bracing. We were under sail some of the time, and under motor power the rest. It all depended on the wind.
A few of us were worried, because the 100,000 people the papers had predicted to show for the first Fleet Week parade and the Red Bull Air Race time trials, were absent. The Navy’s destroyers made their way through the harbor, along with some hovercraft, and a few flyovers from very loud planes and helicopters. The parade was lacking the aircraft carrier, much to my disappointment. When the Navy ships finally made their way under the bridge, it was our turn to show off for the City of San Diego.
By now the people had finally come out. The Midway was covered with people, as well as the Embarcadero, and several dozen sailboats and pleasure craft that had parked themselves in prime viewing locations throughout the harbor. It made our job very difficult, being that our Porcella Nostra is not easily threaded around annoying little sailboats. We finally got to the open patch of water in front of the Reagan and the Inspiration Hornblower, and started exchanging shots with the Californian. Our first rolling broadside was awesome to witness.
When shots are received, you feel the full force of the sound wave. I took lots of video with my little digital camera, and every time the Californian fires, you see the picture jerk, because of the shock I felt each time. At one point later on, the Californian was so close to our starboard side that it was almost painful to receive their rounds.
However, this was nothing to what they must have felt when we returned fire. They had four small 3-6 pounders on board, to our 6 guns of varying size, including a true 6 pounder, Pearl. Whenever the gunners shot off Pearl, we felt the recoil impact in the deck beneath our feet. It makes you wonder what it was like to have the long 9 pounders and the giant 12 pounders on the ships of old. What must it have been like to be standing on the deck of the HMS Victory, with its 96 guns firing?
I’m glad I had ear protection. Once we were done by the carrier, we made our way to the Museum and exchanged more shots for the benefit of our esteemed patrons. Our first volley, however, caught an unwise pair of fishermen unprepared. They were right between our ships when it was time to exchange shots, and having endured crap from sailboats all day, our captain was not about to take pity on two unfortunates in a rowboat. The crew shouted to them to cover their ears, and they got the message quickly as they realized the predicament they were in. The shots were exchanged, and we laughed at their discomfort. They were seen to be moving off in the direction of the Midway shortly after. What a day to be out fishing.
Our last bout of firing came after we’d made our way up to Shelter Island. As we maneuvered into positions, the Red Bull competitors were up in their planes, limbering up for the race. They were performing the most incredible stunts above us. It was loud and somewhat distracting as we tried to get into the best position possible for winning the fight with the Californian. Finally our nemesis came at us, and came up so close to our starboard side that we were able to exchange demands and taunts easily. As you can hear in the video, some of us were dreading the pain that the exchange would cause, due to the sheer sound of the shots ringing out. It was magnificent nonetheless, and since they ran out of powder before we did, I think that we can safely say that we had the upper hand when the day’s hostilities came to an end.
Once the ships were safely docked back at the Museum, and we had put everything away and restored order to our soon-to-be-infested-with-tourists deck, our captain summed up the day. In short he was very proud of our fine performance, especially since we’d had the Museum’s Director on board as a guest. With a good third of our crew new to the ship, and the rest of us trying to remember how we did things back in November, the fact that we only made a couple of small mistakes was something to be proud of.
I joined my crewmates at the local pub for a few rounds of toasts to the ships’ crews, and the ships’ captains, as well as the master gunner. After about an hour of talking and drinking (water in my case), I left the pub feeling better than I have in months. It is a wonderful feeling to be wished well by so many people, to be a part of such a wonderful group that cares so much for each other and the ships that bring us together. The best thing is that this day was only Saturday, and we have crew tomorrow. Huzzah!
There's no stain on that sucker. That's all wood baby. Ain't it beautiful? The day that I did this section, I was by myself, and as I finished cleaning up the mess from sanding, I say the higher-ups of the Museum going below for a meeting, including the skipper. When he came back up on deck, I'd just finished the last of the epoxy on the post. I called him over, and he did a complete double-take. After three years of seeing the wheel every day, looking like crap, finally some progress. I left that day with a huge smile on my face.