Whenever I’m on a boat on an overnight passage—which is not often enough—I volunteer for the midwatch. Back in my younger Coast Guard cutter days, it was a requirement. The new guy always got less sleep. No one wants to be up from midnight for hours—alone—staring at the radar and the pitch-black sea, but I think there are good reasons for some people to volunteer for the midwatch and let the rest of the crew get the best sleep they can.
As I write this, I’m at sea on an FPB-64 called Sarah-Sarah. The owner invited me to take a run from St. Thomas, USVI, to Marathon Key, Florida, a trip I just couldn’t turn down. When shifts came up for discussion, I pushed hard for me to take the “dreaded” midwatch. This was a strategic move on my part that was simply about safety.
This is my first time on this boat. I was not familiar with its systems, and despite a very thorough pre-sail brief, I have no prior experience with its operations. I learned how to operate the radar, how to take control back from the autopilot and received other instructions, but even getting my brain reacquainted with the COLREGS was going to take a few days. No matter my, or anyone else’s, past sea experience, on an unfamiliar boat, even an experienced captain is “the new guy,” and that changes how we should think about crew rest.
Crew rest is part science, part art and a fair amount of human behavior analysis. I know myself. My years in search and rescue have taught me that I do well when woken from a deep sleep and tasked with work; that I can sleep well during the day when the task is over. Simply put, I’m good at midwatch and that’s reason enough to take the shift. So, I told the owner, “I want you to be the most well-rested person aboard, Cap. I’ll take the midwatch.” But my motives were about him and his mate, not myself.
Veteran sailor Lin Pardy once told me that a minimum requirement for crew rest is, “Half the crew, head down, half the time.” She clarified that statement by saying that the off-watch crew should be “not just off the helm but truly resting.” I have always remembered that. But once again, context matters. If anyone is going to have their sleep patterns broken, it should be the same crew member whose job in an emergency would be to largely “stay out of the way” when real decisive actions about vessel operations have to be made.
If you are a new member of the crew, then you have a responsibility to do two things when you are off the watch. First, rest as much as you can before and after that late night watch. And secondly, to ask questions, learn, and practice using the ship’s systems, when you’re not resting.
Aboard Sarah-Sarah, we set a hard line for when I (the new guy) would wake the captain from his long sleep during my mid-watch shift. If a vessel’s closest point of approach is a quarter mile or less— or if I’m worried that it might be—or if I feel uneasy for any reason, I am to wake him up. I’m comfortable with those rules and I’m sure tonight’s watch will be as uneventful as last night’s when I took Carnival’s Mardi Gras cruise ship 8 miles down the starboard side. It made for a perfectly dull watch. Regardless, with my free time today I’ll be digging into the Furuno manual to see what else I can get the radar to do. I’ll also spend some time in the engine room with the fuel manifold and understand how tank-to-tank transfers are done. I’ll be doing that and resting.
I’m the new guy. This is the best way I can add value to the voyage. It will keep the old salts rested and fresh. It will make all of us safer out here.
