Creoula, as Portuguese as the sea

At 10 pm, May 17th, the mooring ropes are unfastened. A towboat guides the ship out of the naval base, between the military grey of the frigates and warships anchored at Alfeite.

On both sides of the vessel, sailors make azimuth calculations to gauge the position of the boat in the Tejo River. They point the scale of the gyrocompass at the statue of Christ, on the south bank – using Lisbon’s Rua Augusta and other visual reference points that appear along the coast.

The «Creoula»’s manoeuvres are plotted with navigational charts, rulers, set squares, compasses. Instruments of the digital age – like GPS – are only used as fallbacks.

“025 to port! Ten degrees to port!” orders the commander. “0-2-5, on the way!” confirms the helmsman. Each order received is repeated out loud, in a constant correction of bearings and directions, with zero margins for error.

The bustle on deck calms the moment we pass the “Ponte 25 de Abril” bridge – looming massive above the masts. A little later comes the “Torre de Belém” – just the way it was seen by the sailors onboard caravelles in the time of the Discoveries. As they still do today, many sailors have discovered the sea on board the «Creoula».

Ever more distant, the Portuguese capital disappears in a trail of flickering lights. Ahead shines the green light of Bugio lighthouse. It’s three minutes past midnight. We advance at a speed of nine knots into the darkness. Despite the tranquility of the waters, Naval commander Nuno Cornélio, 43, orders the hoisting of one of the poop sails, for extra stability.

Here and there, the sea indicates Man’s presence. Almost skimming the hull are polystyrene buoys – marking fishermen’s traps that provide whatever the sea has to give.

A difficult way of life, and one that the «Creoula» knows in its hardest form. Built to face the North seas, this last cod-fishing sailing ship was built in 1937, in Lisbon. It was finished in the record time of 62 days, based on a project by British naval architect Alexander Slatter.

In 1973, it was the only sailing ship to go as far as the banks of Newfoundland – contrasting with capabilities of the modern trawlers and more sophisticated fishing vessels of the era. Throughout her career, the «Creoula» went on 37 fishing trips (travelling the equivalent of more than 10 times round the world) on routes that took her to the west coast of Greenland, and north of the Polar Arctic circle.

“They’d set sail in April and only return in October. In the good old days, sailors would be able to catch six tons of cod. The fish was brought on board, skinned and salted by hand. The cod livers were stored separately, so their oil could be extracted”, tells Commander Nuno Cornélio, who cannot hide his passion for the ship’s history, and that of the men who used to live aboard.

The actual fishing of the cod was done in 52 small craft, called “dory boats”. They were powered by sails, or oars, and only returned when they were stuffed with fish, almost to the point of sinking.

Many sailors lost their lives when fog appeared suddenly, or weather deteriorated without warning. There’s record of a freak wave that swept the deck in 1938, taking with it four men, 23 dory boats and even the ship’s compass.

With so many dangers, it’s easy to imagine the amazement of the last Commander of the «Creoula» in cod fishing times - Captain Marques da Silva - when he learnt that one of his crewmembers had been and returned from fishing on the high seas 40 times!

But those days are long gone. Since she was acquired in 1979, the ship has been in the service of the Portuguese Navy – her mission to present young people, and civilian society in general, with contact with the sea, and an experience of life on the ocean wave.

Every year, between May and the end of September, she takes up to 51 youngsters on board, plus a monitor responsible for various institutions. They sail in triple bunks in the old cod-fishing holds. Known as “instruendos” (instructed ones), they share all the daily duties on board with the troop of 37 men and 2 apprentices.

And there’s always work to do. The deck has to be swabbed twice daily with sweet water (as the seawater makes the wood swell and coats it with salt crystals), sails have to be hoisted, vigils kept and, of course, there’s the endless cleaning. It’s called “general duties”.

This year, for example, the «Creoula» will receive students from the “Universidade Itinerante do Mar” (a model created by the universities of Oporto and Oviedo, to train students about the sea) and the “Escola Profissional de Artes e Ofícios do Espectáculo do Chapitô” (Chapitô circus school).

Even if they don’t get seasick, they’ll have to get used to the incessant noise from the electricity generators (and from the diesel engine when there’s no wind), which makes sleep very difficult.

And reveille is always bright and early. On first contact with light of day since our departure, we’d travelled 20 miles of coastline. It was 7.20 am.

On the bridge, the radar shows 56 other boats in the area – the economy of the world, navigating north and south, passing through Portuguese waters.

In the kitchen, with sea view, at 8 am, cooks Neves, 47 (28 years of which have been spent in the Navy), Ribeiro, 29 and Mendes, 29, prepare “Arroz à Valenciana” for lunch. On deck, the fish for dinner has already defrosted – and will be served up opposite Praia da Rocha!

“This is like a restaurant, the difference is we don’t get complaints from the clients”, the cooks laugh. On this trip to Portimão (after which they’ll be heading to Sesimbra), they’ve stashed away enough food to feed 40 people for a month.

On special days there are even desserts like “arroz-doce” and chocolate mousse.

A lot of the sailors have as many stories to tell as the «Creoula» has herself.

Corporal-electrician Afonso (41 years old, 20 years in the Navy) saw the «Prestige» petrol tanker break in half off the coast of Galicia. Machine engineer Couteiro remembers the oil tankers with their towers in Liberia and other tax havens, times when there were only two bottles of whiskey to the whole ship when an official celebrated a birthday. Commander Cornélio remembers a hermit-like lighthouse keeper, forgotten for more than 20 years on an island near Mozambique – and an epic journey to Japan on board the “floating school” from Sagres.

Only lieutenant engineer Martins, a fado fan according to his team, has already sailed in the «Creoula». He recalls the fright he got when eight metre waves hit them in the Bay of Biscay, in 2007, before they docked in Rouen (France), en-route for a meeting of sailboats, including the Italian «Amerigo Vespucci» and the Mexican « Cuauhtemoc».

Before tying up in Portimão, the «Creoula» enjoyed a few new unexpected “thrills”. A flood of dirty water, a temperamental communications radio, a corporal’s birthday – which according to “custom and tradition” has to be paid in coffees and “digestifs” to the rest of the crew -, a school of dolphins off the coast near Sagres, and finally, an experimental mooring in the port of Portimão, “a manoeuvre described in books”.

“This is an experience that

is so intense people are always sad when they go away”, lieutenant Martins tells us when we part company on the morning of Wednesday May 19th. Let’s hope it’s always like that!