0800 hours

Starting Position: Anchored at Bay Ridge Flats in New York Harbor.
Latitude: 39 ˚ 39.5' N
Longitude: 074˚ 01.5' W

Day Two of the Half Moon's voyage from Athens, NY to New London, CT.

New York local Alex Padalka is due to return to the ship's crew late this morning. Until then, we'll remain at anchor here in New York Harbor, so the crew is largely free to relax until then.

1145 hours

After the crew has enjoyed an easygoing morning, the ship's tender returns from an expedition ashore with its Padalka payload intact.

The crew hauls the Zodiac out of the water and prepares for depature.

1215 hours

We assign crew members to the many positions required to weigh anchor. Mr. Padalka and Mr. Greenberg are stationed on the orlop deck. Together, they'll tend the anchor rode as it twists around the lower capstan, preventing otherwise disastrous overrides (tangles).

Mouse over to watch the rode.

As they preposition the anchor rode by running it around the capstan, the rest of the crew reports to the weather deck.

1230 hours

Captain Reynolds briefs the crew on the immediate matter at hand -- weighing anchor -- and on our larger itinerary.

1315 hours

With our light crew, all hands are needed somewhere. First Mate Hansen steps onto the capstan to lend his weight...

...while Chief Engineer Van Aken takes the helm. With every available hand folding into a shift on the capstan, we soon haul the anchor back up to the water line.

Mouse over to sweat the anchor tackle.

Here the work shifts to the fore deck, where Mr. Van Grondelle and Mr. Robinson sweat the anchor tackle, heaving it up out of the water.

Once it's high enough, they focus their attention on Ms. Laufer on the fore channel...

...who manually positions the anchor for safe storage, lashing it to the channel.

With the anchor secure, Captain Reynolds turns the Half Moon back toward the tip of Manhattan.

We will now operate on a 24-hour duty rotation. This means that we will continue to travel around the clock, with Port and Starboard Watches trading duties every six hours. Crew members not on duty are strongly encouraged to rest while they acclimate to this unusual new schedule.

1400 hours

As we reach Manhattan we break not left to the Hudson, but right to the East River on our way to Long Island Sound. The crew soaks in the uncommon view.

As the crew snaps photos, the ship passes by South Street Seaport (home to several River Day vessels), and approaches the Brooklyn Bridge.

1630 hours

We've traversed the East River and just passed through Hellsgate, so named for the turbulent eddies prone to develop in its currents. (Our passage is quite uneventful, on the other hand.)

Off to port, we notice a large cluster of recreational craft about half a mile off. A passing boater tells us that a pod of dolphins has been playing there all day; we managed to catch a few distant glimpses of them surfacing.

1645 hours

An encounter with one such pleasure boater seems far less random. This sailor is Steve Eftimiades, a longtime Half Moon volunteer who's stopped by to drop off some supplies -- and pick up our extra swivel gun for maintenance.

As we chat with Mr. Eftimiades, we pass by Execution Rock, home to a scenic lighthouse and a vast body of grim lore surrounding its history.

As gradually wind through this cluster of islands, we pass out into Long Island Sound.

1745 hours

Ms. Barton serves dinner at the shift change. Tonight's meal includes sliced ham, baked yams, mixed vegetables, and corn cassarole.

1830 hours

Current Position: Underway in Long Island Sound.
Latitude: 40˚ 55.9' N
Longitude: 073˚ 37.7' W

This voyage is also providing a test run for the ship's new navigational systems. What Henry Hudson wouldn't have given for this!

1900 hours

With Port Watch now in charge, the ship sails on into the evening.

2100 hours

No end position or anchorage to announce today; the Half Moon keeps to its course throughout the night. On the open waters and in the darkness, our helmsmen practice navigating by compass heading alone.

0000 hours

Starboard Watch reports back to their duties. Night travel can be an edgy business in Long Island Sound. A common feature of Long Island Sound is its seemingly omnipresent lobster pots, which are typically marked solely by a small, bobbing float. At night, they're practically invisible. If the Half Moon accidentally runs over a lobster pot while motoring its line can snag our drive shaft, essentially anchoring the ship and forcing our crew to dive under the ship to cut it free. It's no phantom threat; we actually hit a pot on this voyage last year, and Mr. Cardoza was the lucky volunteer to go down.

0230 hours

A mysterious encounter leaves the crew on duty somewhat on edge. As we motor along in the dark, the whipstaff suddenly begins to vibrate fiercely -- a sign that something has snagged our rudder. However, Mate Hansen (currently on duty) immediately throws the engine into neutral. This eliminates the propellor's spin, preventing what we suspect to be a snagged lobster pot line from wrapping around the drive shaft. After some cautious motoring, we conclude that the lobster pot failed to snag us and continue on our way.

Next Time: Jumping Overboard!