4.38.39'N x 80.27.73'W. 

The blindfold came off my eyes and he was there! Neptune himself! Demure on his makeshift sea-bench throne, his expression was unreadable behind a three-week growth of beard scruff, and dark wayfarer sunglasses. I'd always imagined him to be no less than twenty feet tall, with a white beard like sea foam. Expectations aside, this was him, No doubt about it! His royal court and consort were present on Europa's main-deck, a gibbering menagerie of multi-colored clothes and robes with hair like sea-weed. His silver trident, symbol of his sovereignty of the sea, was at his side.

What transpired between me, him, and Europa's other pollywogs, on that shining May 14th afternoon, will have to remain a secret. However, I can say that there is no longer such a thing as a pollywog on the Europa.
Only shell-backs, members all of the Ancient Order of the Deep with new sea-names awarded to them. Being an exclusive, ancient and secret order, I cannot tell you the names, or what happened on that afternoon. The only way to find out is to become a shell-back yourself by crossing the Equator and receiving a customary visit by King Neptune and his royal delegation. However, whatever rumors you have heard about Neptune's visits to voyaging seafarers in wide-eyed chatter at the deckhouse bar, or told with wild hand gestures on the poop deck on a lazy night watch, are more likely than not quite true!

Ever since old Neptune left however, there has been a bad stink that clings to the grains in the floorboards all over the ship; I fear it may remain this way for some time to come, despite the daily cleaning. Also, it appears that our first mate, Marteyn Blok, has been taking some styling cues from Neptune. (Or Neptune from him?) Either circumstance would not surprise me.

We actually crossed the equator on the sunny morning of May 13 at 7:49:55 at longitude 081.13.'W. A passing marked with a mighty bellow from the ship's horn and a cheer from the crew.

It's been an otherwise pleasant passage from Ecuador to Panama - as of 1400 today, we have 206 miles of tropical-blue ocean ahead of our bowsprit. Early in the voyage we twice (at least, while I was awake!) saw large pods of dolphins. They put on an energetic display of jumping beyond any that I have seen in any dolphins in my few years of sea-faring. As if in imitation of the "whack-a-mole" arcade game, a dolphin would leap out of the
water to land on its side, one after another, approaching heights at least a dozen feet. I saw one nearly stand up on its tail-fin and nearly do a backwards somersault. Ever inquisitive, they came close to our ship and its bow. Equally inquisitive, the humans on board the Europa lined the rails as both species of mammal espied one-another. The one thing that always gets a laugh from me though, is how the dolphins always get bored with people
before we tire of them!

In other news, an error in helmsmanship put a crack in a studding sail boom on the 13th as the boom felt the power of wind coming from the wrong angle. With all three studding-sails still aloft, we were left in a precarious position; If we took only the broken one down, then it would create unequal stress on all the studding sails and possibly end up breaking all of them! Captain Klaas' answer was to take them all in at the same time - and mighty quickly! His plan was well-executed by the ship's bosun, Val Salis-Samaden. She manned the web of studding-sail lines with as many bodies as could be found. When everything was ready, the command was given; the sheets were loosed, and the halyards eased with near-abandon as the studding-sails, wind-whipped and howling, came to deck in a controlled "crash". It no doubt looked impressive from a distance!

Whatever it looked like, the other two studding sails were brought to deck with no damage. Later that day, I came on deck, to see a new boom rigged in place for our cracked one, and all three studding sails bellied with wind on the port side. As we used to say last summer on Europa: "Clear away the wreckage, and reset."

This morning saw a downpour shower our decks, we took in our studding sails, our skysails and upper staysails. The wind grew in intensity to heel us over and I could feel the deck beneath me pick up speed. Unfortunately, the wind left with the rain within the hour. It has come back slowly at least, a sorry stand-in for this morning's excitement. It seems that our reward for our work this morning was rain-drenched clothes, a clean deck, and a
sandwich at lunch - we missed the wind. Despite the gray and rainy morning, the sun is now out, and an afternoon of vigorous sanding and sawing keeps the watches busy as the bosun makes up time for the morning.

Yesterday I learned how the Captain can, with a glance, tell if the helmsman is off course. I would have never guessed it; He told us, with his expansive, bearded grin, that he watches the direction of the fishing line trailing back aft as it sways to catch up to us. "The oldest captain's  trick" he tells us!

Matt Maples