Logbook N° 002
By Sébastien Lemoine,
Second lieutenant.

If someone had told me when I joined the French National Navy in 2005 that my first posting would be on a three-masted schooner, I would probably have looked at them like they were crazy. At the time, I was dreaming of serving on the legendary “grey ships” or on submarines. I was just returning from my training on the helicopter carrier Jeanne d’Arc, when I came across this new opportunity that the Navy was offering: the chance to join the long list of sailor-explorers, to set out to conquer a continent. And not just any continent, but one that, for many people, is still shrouded in a great deal of mystery – South America. I made an on-the spot decision and my efforts bore fruit a few weeks later.

22 June 2009: Second meeting with Captain Franceschi. Within a few minutes he informed me that I would be leaving immediately for Le Havre, where the ship La Boudeuse was being repaired, and that I was being assigned to the post of on-site manager. This provoked a rapid internal debate:
“My God, why me? I didn’t sign up for this!”
“Well, what’s the problem, you volunteered didn’t you? The adventure begins right away. It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’m a sailor! I wanted adventure on the high seas: sails flapping in the wind, the wind whistling in my ears, my ears soothed by the sound of the lapping waves, all under the warm rays of the sun. I don’t know anything about shipyards!”
“The unknown, now that’s adventure! Forget your romantic visions of taking a cruise on a sailing ship. Grab your oilskins and your overalls and you’ll just have to grin and bear it … a shipyard means hard work”.

Thus warned by the captain and my intransigent conscience, I took on my first duties with the partially formed crew and faced up to the minor challenges and obstacles that all shipyards present. I would like to step into the captain’s shoes (temporarily of course) and offer my heartfelt praise to all those people, and especially the crew, who played their parts in the repair works day after day. Although most of the tasks may seem thankless, they are absolutely essential in terms of preparing La Boudeuse for the new adventure that awaits her. Away from the routine of our daily lives, we are relentlessly preparing for the departure: putting together, amongst other things, an arsenal of WMM (Weapons of Mass Maintenance) such as paintbrushes, pick hammers and various chisels. As for me, I’m learning “Boudeuse speak”: blocks, jaw of a gaff, peak halyard, arrow tack, fiddle, running backstay and my all-time favourite, the “baggy wrinkle” (a sort of twist of old rope designed to prevent the sails from rubbing on the rig).

Can you smell it? The scent of departure…I’ve waited for it, looked for it, sniffed in each and every corner of the boat for it (yes, even in the engine or in the waste water tanks) and for the last few days, it seems to be getting stronger. The masts are in place and so are the yards. Loading of the equipment has begun. At night I check the moorings, as I have the distinct impression that all that life that has been pumped back into La Boudeuse is making her tremble with impatience. Once night has fallen, I dream once again of being assigned to deck watch, when only the wind and the sea spray answer my call for the open sea and my desire for the immensity of the ocean.