Martinique, France

Yesterday, we had our official “change of command” ceremony. When a Captain leaves a ship, he is relieved by the new one in a formal ceremony. Since we were at sea, we had our ceremony on the forecastle (pronounced folk-sill, it’s the front part of the ship). The captain who is leaving was an awesome guy. He really knew how to take care of his people, drive a ship and be a leader. He’ll be missed. We now have a new captain, who is changing things a lot. Of course, people dislike change, so there is a lot of pushback. Only time will tell how he will fare as a leader.
His first challenge as Captain was to pull into Martinique, France—a tiny island in the Caribbean. As we were pulling in, I was standing up on the bridge to see the island. It looks simply remarkable from the sea. Rolling green mountains rising up into the clouds, houses etched into the sides of the hills, all surrounded by clear, cerulean colored water… It was a sight to behold. There is an old French fort there that was built pretty long ago as we were steaming into port. It’s still an active naval base today, with ivy-covered brick edifices jutting out of the water to shield the fort itself.
We had liberty last night to go out and explore the island, which we were all excited to get after a few weeks underway and after seeing the island from the sea. Unfortunately, it was a depressing port visit. The place was pretty destitute, with almost every restaurant and bar closed for lent. Apparently, in France, lent is a very strictly observed religious time, where many businesses just close down. I don’t understand how they can do that, but they do. The highlight of the night was getting food at McDonalds, even after I swore I would find a nice French place to eat at. It’s just that nothing was really open.
As I write this, we’re pulling away from Martinique en route to Brazil. The transit down should be treacherous—7-12 foot seas off of our beam (the side of the ship). To give you an idea of how much that throws a little ship like this around, if you’re sitting in a chair, the chair will still slide across the room from the force of the ship rocking. It will be seas at about the limit that our ship can take across her beam. Any higher than that, and we’ll need to pull into port. For my new Seaman Recruit who flew into Martinique to report aboard, it should be an adventuresome first underway at sea for him. If his stomach can take it, I’d be truly impressed.