With our porthole hatch still battened down...indulge me a minute while I discuss that. Two readers, Nancy and Nicola graciously supplied us with answers to our wondering about the origin of the term "batten down the hatches". I'll provide Nancy's briefer email here, and Nicola's fuller explanation below. Thank you both for being so kind as to help us out in our Undernet world!! :-)
What Is the Origin of the Saying "To Batten Down the Hatches"? From Nancy
To batten down the hatches means to prepare for pending trouble.
To batten down the hatches is a nautical term from the early 19th century. When a ship was about to enter rough seas, the captain would order the crew to batten down the hatches. The crew would close all the hatches (doors) on the ship’s decks and use lengths of batten (rods) to secure the hatches in the closed position.
... we could tell only from the front of the ship camera broadcast on Channel 49 that we had docked in Raiatea. and know enough now to be able to tell by the view on the camera which way the Pacific Princess was docked, and so knew that our porthole, had it been unhatched, would have been right at pier level. G went into the bathroom to take care of morning ablutions when suddenly the ship's power went out. He opened the bathroom door to ask for a flashlight (for which our iPhones work perfectly) just to find his way over to the porthole. Battened down hatches be damned...drastic times call for drastic measures. He lifted the porthole cover (surprisingly heavy) and I put the rod (batten) in place to hold it up and we at least had enough light in our cabin to navigate.
G couldn't wait to get out to see what was going on; he was dying to know if the emergency backup generator on Deck 10 had kicked in (and therein lies the difference between the two genders. I didn't even know there WAS an emergency backup generator on Deck 10, and, even when I had that knowledge, couldn't care less what it was doing during the power outage). I was more interested in brushing my teeth and washing my face and trying to wet down my hair a bit to tame its 'bed head' appearance and, mostly, get my contacts in so I could see something...anything. Water pressure had instantly dwindled to a dribble...a scalding hot dribble. Luckily, I remembered the gallon of distilled water I keep under the sink, to clean my contacts in case of an emergency. I was able to mix it with a little of the boiling water and complete my morning cleanup, also via iPhone flashlight reflected off the bathroom mirror. Toilet flushing was out, of course (okay, I'll be honest- that was my first question to G when all this went down and he said "OF COURSE the toilets won't flush...they're vacuum operated". I am still in the dark (ha ha!) about what one issue has to do with the other, but, wouldn't you know it, he was right. What happened in the toilet stayed in the toilet). Our cabin was also immediately starting to warm up since there was no circulation, and the elevators were obviously out of service, too ('obviously', because even I knew that would be the case).
You can see how these situations so quickly turn desperate. Captain Ciruzzi immediately made an announcement that emergency backup power was providing lighting for the corridors and that they would have all the power up in a few minutes. Once I was cleaned up and dressed, my first stop was the Club Bar for some brewed decaf coffee before it got cold. That, and water was about all we could drink. Dispensers of all sorts- soda, coffee, juice- stopped working when the power went out. I knew I could get fresh fruit and cottage cheese, and so sat down in the Club Restaurant for that. G soon found me there, and since I couldn't have toast, I had a slice of Christmas stollen. Stollen!! They had stollen! I have been anxiously waiting for it, and it was a wonderful substitute for my usual six grain toast.
The power soon came back on in stages: first the lights then the air conditioning. I don't think it was out for more than 15 minutes total, but it provided a bit of an exciting start to the day. Thankfully we were already docked when it went out, so there was no drama at all, just a sense of adventure as we navigated around the mostly dark and very silent ship.
We had one last thing we wanted to do in Raiatea and so packed just a few things in my backpack, including my mask and snorkel, and set out to walk about 20 minutes south along the waterfront to the Hotel Hawaiki Nui, originally called the Raiatea Bali Hai, and the site of the first overwater bungalows in French Polynesia constructed in 1968. There was no beach (Douglas Pearson says there's no beach at all on mainland Raiatea), but we had heard about good snorkeling right off the pier at the Hawaiki Nui. There were no shoulders or sidewalks along the road on the walk down there, which tends to concern G (raised in a small town) more than me, but we wore our yellow "don't get hit by a taxi- or a pickup truck" t-shirts, walked facing traffic and hoped for the best. At least the cars on Raiatea drive at a reasonable speed, which they don't on Moorea.
Once at the hotel we bought drinks but drank them on the pier, and I wasted no time in slipping into the water right there. Oh yes, what we had heard was absolutely correct. There is amazing snorkeling along the coral shelf on which the overwater bungalows have been constructed. The sun had slipped away by then, so the colors didn't pop, but the variety of fish was incredible. It was the best no-cost snorkeling I've done in French Polynesia, topped only by the Aquarium on Rangiroa and Coral Gardens on Bora Bora. I looked seriously hard in every bit of what I call "car wash coral", the wavy, mop-like coral for another Nemo fish; I had seen my first (and only) three right across the water at Motu Ofetaro. While I didn't see any, I saw the most interesting assortment of colorful fish and had a great time.
I don't know how long I was at that (G says well over an hour), because I go into my own little world when there's good snorkeling, but finally G yelled down at me from the pier that, if we didn't leave soon, we were going to get caught in a downpour. I climbed up the ladder and started to dry off a bit before I dressed. While I was air-drying, I looked over at the deck off the nearest overwater bungalow and saw a glamorous young lady in a hat step out. Hmmm...that looked like one of the dancers from the ship, Natalie. Before I could ponder it any longer, out came dancers Steph and John. Assistant Cruise Director Xavier had surprised those that could get away with a day at on overwater bungalow at the resort. They all invited us to join them ('cause they're just that nice), but...please. They were trying to get away from passengers like us. I left them my mask and snorkel to enjoy the snorkeling and we were on our way.
I loved the color of the foliage we saw on our walk.
G's weather forecast was 100% accurate, but our little delay in talking with the dancers meant that we were about 10 minutes from the ship when the skies open and we were caught in a deluge. Luckily, it didn't last long, but that was kind of the end of the even marginally pretty weather for the day. We returned to the ship soaking wet with the Princess "flag" (blue and white striped beach towels) wrapped around us. While G was showering, I ran two of our Coke tumblers out to the two local security guys, and, in return got big hugs, two cheek kisses (I am getting so good at those!) and Joyeaux Noël's. These guys have given us friendly greetings on all our comings and goings from the Pacific Princess in Raiatea over the past two months and it was nice to have something small to give them.
We ate lunch on the terrace behind the buffet, joined by entertainer Dan Riley and with Paige and her husband Lee at the next table. I could tell G was wearing down, and was grateful that, for once, I wouldn't be the one discouraging more activity before sailaway at 6pm. Sure enough, we made it only as far as two loungers on the pool deck overlooking Uturoa before G fell asleep. And when he finally awoke, we returned to the cabin so he could nap some more. That's a good thing; we have a late Christmas Eve planned and there is no way we'll make it until nearly 1am without a little down time.
The Pacific Princess sailed earlier than originally scheduled today, due to the winds that are expected to increase this evening and might jeopardize our ability to get through Teavapiti Pass if we'd waited until 11pm. There was no sign of the winds early on, but, honestly, Uturoa on Christmas Eve doesn't offer a lot of night life anyway; the Pacific Princess is the best place to be. Where we'll be cruising until tomorrow morning's arrival in Bora Bora is anyone's guess; it's located within sight of Raiatea, just 20 or so miles away, but Captain Ciruzzi said we'd be cruising 140 miles overnight. Too bad we can't see these Society Islands we're cruising past.
We were up at the Elite Lounge at 5:30pm (and I enjoyed both the port wine and Stilton offered tonight), but stepped out on Deck 10 for our final sailaway from Raiatea this winter (weep!). Suzan, we met your friends Roy and Pam up there. They said they were looking for a white beard and that eventually let them to G. It was nice talking with them, and together we enjoyed the views of the Raiatea mountainsides and reef as we sailed away.
Tonight's dinner menu was Italian night, which was perfect. The waiters were in red and white striped pullovers and the assistant waiters were in green and white striped pullovers and several had Santa hats on too. I had eaten a late lunch and then had Stilton before dinner; I wasn't that hungry. I had just my favorite spinach salad topped with chicken breast...and lemoncello sorbet for dessert, of course. We shared a bottle of champagne and it was a memorable Christmas Eve dinner.
We're back in the cabin for a short time before going to the 8:30pm show in the Cabaret Lounge, Jere Ring's Liberace Christmas. Between Jere's personality and talent; this should be a highly enjoyable hoot. Mass is going to be offered at 11:30pm tonight. (I hope I can stay up for that.)
And, finally, Merry Christmas! I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe holiday. Big hugs to family and friends...we miss you!!
From Nicola's email, a further definition of the origin of the term "batten down the hatches":
'Hatch' is one of those words with dozens of meanings in the dictionary. In this case we are looking at the 'opening in the deck of a ship' meaning. Ships' hatches, more formally called hatchways, were commonplace on sailing ships and were normally either open or covered with a wooden grating to allow for ventilation of the lower decks. When bad weather was imminent, the hatches were covered with tarpaulin and the covering was edged with wooden strips, known as battens, to prevent it from blowing off. Not surprisingly, sailors called this 'battening down'.
The above was explained, probably better than I just have, in the definitive record of history of nautical language, Admiral W H Smyth’s 1867 encyclopaedia The Sailor’s Word Book. He calls it 'battening of the hatches' but it is clearly the same expression:
“Battens of the hatches: Long narrow laths serving by the help of nailing to confine the edges of the tarpaulins, and keep them close down to the sides of the hatchways in bad weather.”
The misspellings 'battern down the hatches' and 'baton down the hatches' are sometimes found in print. 'Batons' are sticks or staffs, which makes that particular misspelling plausible. 'Batterns' are a form of stage lighting.
