Up to the bridge. We wait for another container ship to go in, then it's our turn. With our second mate on the stern, chief mate on the bow, our able crew to all the hawsers, into the Victoria and Alfred Basin we steam. It's blowing like hell outside. But now we can feel the warmth of the late morning sun.
Gulls wheel and squawk overhead while fancy, powerful, wooden tugs trundle across the basin.
Seals nose about in the protected waters doing tumbling flips as it pleases them. Onlookers gather on the pier. Table Mountain, like a bastion of rock, dominates the picture over this big modern city. The snowy white Table Cloth continues to pour down upon the port. The mate squares the yards and sets the gang to making perfect harbor furls on all the canvas.