Going to School at Sea

The subjects are science and sailing--for college credit

The only sounds are the creak of rigging and the occasional click of ball point pens. Twenty-four students are quietly writing answers on their final exam.

Suddenly a cry bursts out: "Everybody on deck!" Off tiny Guinchos Cay in the Atlantic, 20 miles north of Cuba, the 100-ft.

schooner R/V (for research vessel) West ward is heading for water only three fathoms deep. Exams or not, the students are needed on the double to lower some 7,000 sq. ft. of sail so Westward will be moving slowly as it leaves the safety of deep water. The sophomores and juniors, drawn from two dozen U.S. colleges, drop their pens and scramble to their stations, some grabbing halyards on deck, others swinging into the ratlines 20 ft. above.

It is a familiar scene aboard the teak-decked, 250-ton Westward, an oceanographic ship that for the past eight years has plowed the oceans for some 280 days each year as a school afloat.

The schooner is used for college credit courses in nautical and marine science offered by the non profit Sea Education Association, Inc., of Woods Hole, Mass., a one-semester minicollege for liberal arts majors and others interested in learning about the oceans. As SEA's executive director, Corwith Cramer Jr., puts it, "America used to be a maritime nation. Today there are few places where you can learn about the sea. We're trying to reduce what I call maritime illiteracy."

The 16-credit program is listed in the catalogues of Boston University, Cornell University, the College of Charleston, Colgate, American University and the University of Pennsylvania. At $3,700, the tuition is roughly equivalent to a semester's tuition at many private colleges.

Some 250 students apply annually for the 144 berths on Westward. SEA's usual admission requirements: a B average, capacity for independent study, tolerance for the rigors of shipboard life. Before shipping out, they spend six weeks of Sea Semester at Woods Hole studying marine science (ocean life, geology, currents) and nautical science (piloting, navigation, ship design). In a specially salty course called Man and the Sea, readings range from the romance of the Odyssey (Why can't Ulysses work that boat back to Ithaca?) to such down-to-sea realism as Food from the Sea: The Economics and Politics of Fisheries. Aided by guest lecturers from the renowned Marine Biological Laboratory at Woods Hole, students pick a research topic to pursue at sea.

The excitement builds as students board the Westward. They gradually take charge of the schooner's scientific activities, which include round-the-clock net tows to analyze ocean life and water samples daily at depths up to two miles. They hone their seamanship on the six-week voyage, navigating by sun and stars across the open ocean, guiding the vessel through changing weather under the watchful eyes of the ship's mates and captain. Says Captain Sidney Miller, 52: "At first the students can't believe we'll let them make mistakes. But we do, as long as they don't threaten the safety of the vessel."

Voyaging through the Caribbean (and off Nova Scotia, where Westward cruises in summer) sounds glamorous indeed, but aboard ship the glamour blurs. Students average only four hours of sleep a night and whirl through a torrent of classes, experiments and deck duties.

"There's more academic stress than I anticipated," concedes Lori Ragosa, 20, who is majoring in international relations at Georgetown University. "At most schools students don't get up at 3 a.m. to work on their projects."

Each student also spends at least one 14-hour stretch chained to Westward's diesel stove as "galley slave," cooking for 34 people. Meals are justly referred to as "feeding frenzies." Sample fare: pizza, noodles and beef, fresh-caught dolphin fish. For the most part, the young mariners are too tired for ship board romance, which is discouraged anyway in SEA literature as "tiresome and destructive" in such close quarters. A student-lettered sign high above deck announces: NO FRIGGING IN THE RIGGING.

Leaning against the bright white aft cabin, Sophomore Paul McDowell, 19, of Tulane University, recalls his typical schedule for 24 hours aboard the ship this month:

"Wednesday, 7 p.m.-ll p.m.: ate dinner, read texts on radar for term paper, slept 2 1/2 hours. 1 1 p.m.3 a.m.: deck watch.

Assigned as lookout for any approaching sea vessels. Raised and lowered topsail. Thursday, 3 a.m.7 a.m.: slept. 7 a.m.-l p.m.: breakfast.

Met with ship scientist to plan graphs for research project on the reliability of navigational aids. Prepared graphs. Lunch. 1 p.m.-7 p.m.: directed winch operator in lowering net for ocean tow.

Put bottles on wire in preparation for taking water samples. Tied weight to wire. Entered sample data on report form. Attended science lecture. Climbed rigging 40 ft. above deck to change light bulbs in the foremast shroud."

The pragmatic learning by doing aboard Westward comes as a shock to many students. "When you get science in school, it's so pure," says Debbie Merrill, 20, a sophomore majoring in environmental studies at the University of Vermont. "You never hear about how the researchers lost some of the sampling bottles in the ocean, or how sick they were at the rail." Arndt Braaten, 19, a junior at Luther College, discovered during spectro-photometric analysis in West-ward's lab that tiny particles of iron peel away from the ship's hull and form measurable concentrations in water samples taken within a few feet of the ship, a possible source of error in chemical analyses of sea water. Braaten hopes to publish his findings in a scientific journal. Says he: "The sea isn't something you can easily generalize about. It changes so much."

Though the rough and tumble of the sea leads some students to reject careers in marine science, approximately half of the program's 1,100 alumni say they are pursuing related careers--including maritime law, environmental planning, oceanography. A few have even gone to work as yachting and fishing-boat crew.

Captain Miller ran away to sea at age 16. He thinks of the semester as a "total immersion," with an impact greater than the academic work load. "My theory is that people are split apart more and more, alone at home watching television," he says. "At sea they are thrown together as a group. That fills a basic human need. How else can you explain the intensity of feeling the students develop?"

Though it is not billed as an adventure or endurance test, Sea Semester tends to attract students who are tinged with wanderlust. Says Greg Montgomery, 20, a University of Virginia junior: "At school I have a 3.5 average, and I take academics very seriously, but I was getting stale." "Most kids this age are dying for a way to prove themselves," says Cramer. "The Peace Corps appealed to that. How many other ways are there today for a 20-year-old to exercise real responsibility and show that he's good?"

Frequently students tell him that the program has changed them deeply. Paul McDowell, who raced small sailboats before his Westward voyage, says the semester has changed his view of the oceans: "As a racer, I've always tried to get from one place to another across the sea as fast as I could. But aboard Westward we've learned how to work with the sea. I have learned about what lives in the sea, how we affect the sea. Sailing isn't just competitive now." Explains Chief Scientist Donald Drost, 36: "We're all interested in this because we love the sea. That's why we want to show it to others."

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