During the night, the National Geographic Endeavour found herself sailing through a seemingly continual barrage of 3-4 meter swells, the timing and period of her passage through them reminiscent of the rhythmic striking of a low-toned, march-to-war kettle drum. As she pushed through the forward side of successive swells, shockwaves rippled down her length with the concussive strength of close-quarter artillery explosions. The winds screamed and whistled through the ship’s rigging, and raised the sea to a boil. The Beaufort scale soared towards eight, and the rain fell in torrents. Capt. Lampe slowed the vessel as a countermeasure. The effect was positive and immediate, though by no means did it completely ameliorate the lash of the inclement circumstances. At some point during the tropical darkness the period between swells lengthened, and the pitching softened. The ship began to rock us gently like babes in a cradle.

By early morning, the sky was a patchwork of benign blues and grays shot through with streaks of amber sunlight. The rain had dissipated, the seas had been quelled, and the wind reduced to an even-flowing, warm tropical breeze. At breakfast relief was writ large on the faces and in the facetious sighs of most of us. Not surprisingly healthy appetites filled the dining hall. By mid-morning the air had warmed, the clouds had thinned and parted, and the National Geographic Endeavour was sailing a northwesterly course over gently undulating, cobalt seas – clear, deep, and richly blue.

Naturalist Larry Hobbs has spent many years studying some of the seas’ most alluring and mighty denizens – cetaceans. Using the updated audio-visual system of the National Geographic Endeavour’s first-class lecture lounge in his late-morning presentation, he illuminated the origins of whaling as an enterprise, recounted (often with humorous anecdotes) his personal exploits as a researcher during the early days of tagging and tracking, and concluded with a look at modern equipment and techniques which have helped deepen our understanding of these gentle giants. He cautioned, however, that much work still needs to be done, and that some of the most basic questions concerning whales and dolphins are, and may continue to be, some of the most difficult to satisfactorily answer. In closing, Larry talked about his research into sustainability and the proper place of humans in the ecosystem.

Following lunch the Lindblad staff hosted a showing of Thor Heyerdhal’s 1951 Academy Award winning documentary “Kon-Tiki.” The movie chronicles Heyerdahl’s and his team’s ambitious reconstruction of a South American balsa log raft, which they sailed to Polynesia in 1947 in an attempt to add empirical heft to Heyerdahl’s claim that the peopling of Polynesia could have resulted from a South American-originated migration. Filmed in Super-8 black and white, it stands as a unique and singular work by one of the twentieth century’s most famous, committed, and controversial archaeologists.

Expedition Leader Tom Ritchie rounded the day’s educational program with a presentation on Captain Cook’s first expedition aboard the bark Endeavour. Tom paid particular attention to the chronology of the expedition’s discoveries. It was the first of Cook’s three great voyages. A young Joseph Banks was commissioned as the expedition’s chief naturalist. His primary duty, aside from collecting and cataloguing new floral and faunal species, was to set up a station in Tahiti to view the transit of Venus, a rare astronomical event. The expedition was clearly a success, but came at the cost of numerous lives. A large contingent of Cook’s crew would succumb to disease in Batavia (present day Jakarta). As Tom rounded out his talk with a cursory discussion of Cook’s next two voyages the seas around us took on the sheen of mercury – calm, gently rolling, and cooled in color and tone by the waning light of a tropical day. By eventide the western horizon was stained shades of chartreuse, flamingo, and burnt orange. As the sun dropped even farther below the sea’s edge a crimson tide of light swept our day into night.