I spent hours trying to decipher the lines in the survivalmanual on navigation. Plain and simple explanations on livingoff the sea were given in abundance, but a basic knowledge ofseafaring was assumed by the author of the manual. Thecastaway was to his mind an experienced sailor who, compass,chart and sextant in hand, knew how he found his way intotrouble, if not how he would get out of it. The result wasadvice such as "Remember, time is distance. Don't forget towind your watch," or "Latitude can be measured with thefingers, if need be." I had a watch, but it was now at thebottom of the Pacific. I lost it when the Tsimtsum sank. As forlatitude and longitude, my marine knowledge was strictly limitedto what lived in the sea and did not extend to what cruisedon top of it. Winds and currents were a mystery to me. Thestars meant nothing to me. I couldn't name a singleconstellation. My family lived by one star alone: the sun. Wewere early to bed and early to rise. I had in my life looked ata number of beautiful starry nights, where with just twocolours and the simplest of styles nature draws the grandest ofpictures, and I felt the feelings of wonder and smallness thatwe all feel, and I got a clear sense of direction from thespectacle, most definitely, but I mean that in a spiritual sense,not in a geographic one. I hadn't the faintest idea how thenight sky might serve as a road map. How could the stars,sparkle as they might, help me find my way if they keptmoving?
I gave up trying to find out. Any knowledge I might gainwas useless. I had no means of controlling where I was going– no rudder, no sails, no motor, some oars but insufficientbrawn. What was the point of plotting a course if I could notact on it? And even if I could, how should I know where togo? West, back to where we came from? East, to America?
North, to Asia? South, to where the shipping lanes were? Eachseemed a good and bad course in equal measure.
So I drifted. Winds and currents decided where I went. Timebecame distance for me in the way it is for all mortals – Itravelled down the road of life – and I did other things withmy fingers than try to measure latitude. I found out later thatI travelled a narrow road, the Pacific equatorial counter-current.
I gave up trying to find out. Any knowledge I might gainwas useless. I had no means of controlling where I was going– no rudder, no sails, no motor, some oars but insufficientbrawn. What was the point of plotting a course if I could notact on it? And even if I could, how should I know where togo? West, back to where we came from? East, to America?
North, to Asia? South, to where the shipping lanes were? Eachseemed a good and bad course in equal measure.
So I drifted. Winds and currents decided where I went. Timebecame distance for me in the way it is for all mortals – Itravelled down the road of life – and I did other things withmy fingers than try to measure latitude. I found out later thatI travelled a narrow road, the Pacific equatorial counter-current.