Around the World Submerged: The Voyage of the Triton

We have nearly crossed the Indian Ocean. Tomorrow, we expect to arrive at the Cape of Good Hope. It has been a pleasant trip, unmarred by submerged peaks or other alarms. The water is as uniformly deep as anywhere we have seen, not too cold, but cool and beautiful through the periscope. It is one of the least known oceans, bounded on the north by the subcontinent of India, on the west by Africa and on the east by the Malay Archipelago and Australia. Its southern boundary is Antarctica. One of its noticeable characteristics, at least so far as we have observed, is a consistently heavy sea condition, and in this it resembles the Atlantic. Every time we are at periscope depth for observations, it appears that a state 3 to 4 sea is running [corresponding to wave heights from 5 to 10 feet], enough to make surface ships uncomfortable.

A matter of note: LCDR Adams, now relieved from navigational chores, is concentrating full time on administrative matters, with intent of having desk cleared for the avalanche of paper work we expect upon arrival in the United States. There has been a steady flow coming out of his desk anyway, but since Lombok Strait it has tripled. And all of us dread the blizzard of paper awaiting us in New London.

So far as the no-smoking test is concerned, Weybrew and Stark contend that they have enough now to fulfill the requirement laid upon them by Medical Research Laboratory. It is also apparent, according to them, and I must confess having noticed something of the same myself, that the test has gone on just about long enough. Overt feelings of hostility are coming to the fore, expressed in a number of small ways, and there have been instances of increasing irritability. Deprived of a normal intake of mild stimulant, there obviously have been mild withdrawal symptoms among the heavier smokers in the crew.

The same is evident in the officers. Most noticeable, to me, are signs of forced gaiety, frequently with a sharp edge to it. Jim Stark, himself a heavy smoker, enjoys egging his wardroom buddies on—and this, in my opinion, is his compensation.

One night during this period, I recall asking the cause of a large red welt across the top of Jim’s baldish head. The explanation, given with suppressed mirth by his wardroom mates, was that an hour before he had been demonstrating his complete freedom from any reaction to the enforced abstinence from smoking by showing that his physical co-ordination had been unimpaired. The test he chose, hopping on one leg, might have been a good one had he taken the trouble to check his surroundings first. Without thinking, he hopped through the wardroom doorway and attempted to ram his head through the heavy aluminum beam which forms the top of the door frame.

From the Log:

These were expected manifestations of adjustment and are cause for no particular notice, but there are also one or two cases where evidence of heightened nervous reaction is accompanied by relatively poor adjustment. In a ship’s company of 183 people, something of this sort is bound to turn up. But answering my question as to what the ultimate results might be in the most severe cases, if the smoking lamp could not be relighted, the savants spread their hands expressively, “Who knows?” they say. “Most likely, if the man recognizes that it is impossible to smoke, he will psychologically adjust to it with relative ease. Symptoms will disappear or maladjustments will work themselves out.”

The point is that here in Triton the only reason for prohibiting smoking is for a test. Everyone knows it requires but one word, and the smoking lamp will be lighted. Were we in a dangerous situation where safety of the ship or life of personnel were involved, as for example in an explosive atmosphere, the entire situation would be different.

Easter Sunday, 17 April 1960 We are approaching the Cape of Good Hope. Many people will be surprised to learn that the Cape of Good Hope is not actually at the southernmost tip of Africa at all. This honor is reserved for Agulhas Point, a little more to the south. Agulhas is not, however, a prominent landmark like the Cape of Good Hope. The story goes that when a storm blew Bartholomew Diaz around the southern end of Africa, he saw nothing and actually went quite some distance northward on the east side of that continent. On his return voyage, he bestowed the name “Stormy Cape” on the most distinctive point of land in the area; it was King John of Portugal who thought of “Cape of Good Hope.”