Original subtitles

In Norway, winter comes early and stays late.

We Norwegians are used to long winters

and many of us young people enjoy winter as much as summer.

This particular winter might have been like any other.

But in the middle of November, Oslo's full-rigged school ship,

Christian Radich, was moved to a berth at the city dock.

Then, newspapers and the radio started telling that the Christian Radich was going

to leave soon on a special training cruise to the east coast

of the United States by way of Madeira and the West Indies.

Of course, the captain will be Yngvar Kjelstrup, one of Norway's best-known

sailing masters and the man who was responsible

for designing and building the Christian Radich.

He believes every Norwegian boy worth his keep

should make at least one training cruise on a windjammer.

Never, it seems, had there been so much excitement about the departure of any

Norwegian vessel, nor had there been so much competition

among young men and boys to sign on for the cruise.

The purpose of a training cruise is to qualify boys

for billets in Norway's very big merchant marine.

But many Norwegian boys go to sea because it's a family tradition.

Their fathers, uncles, or grandfathers have been ship captains or mates.

Captain Kjelstrup is very careful in choosing his boys.

You don't stand a chance unless you're tip-top physically and have good

letters from your teachers, pastor, doctor, and others who know you.

Out of the hundreds who apply, less than 50 will be chosen.

Those of us who were finally selected felt extremely lucky and very proud.

We were told to report at once to the Christian Radich.

We are all kinds and from all parts of Norway.

Of the deck boys chosen, the oldest is Harald

Tusberg, 21, just through with his military service.

Although two boys were only 14, most of us are the same as Sven-Erik Libaek, 17.

Sven-Erik has been playing the piano since he was five

and plans to make music his career.

We often hear him over Oslo radio.

Mr. and Mrs. Libaek gave permission for Sven-Erik to sign on for the cruise

only because he promised to practice faithfully

if they could somehow arrange to have a piano put aboard.

Of the grown-ups signed on as mates and petty officers,

the best known is Lasse Kolstad, who besides being

a good sailor, is also an actor and popular singer.

No sooner are we on the ship than we are ordered into

uniform, dressed blues for a round of inspections.

A sailor himself, His Majesty King Olav V

wishes the Christian Radich fair winds and god speed.

The royal visit is also a tribute to Captain Kjelstrup.

This is his last voyage before retiring.

In our flat hats and bell-bottom blues,

we imagine ourselves to be looking like old salts.

But I guess we don't fool anyone.

We're still just landsmen and have a lot to learn about the sea.

The captain gives us three minutes for goodbyes to family and friends.

Captain Kjelstrup will take no chances with a crew of green deck boys,

so he uses the ship's harbour auxiliary to start us on our way.

According to Lasse, we're staying in the calm waters

of the Oslo fjord until we're rid of our lubberly ways

and learn how to work together as deep-sea sailor men.

After you've learned about the gear below deck and on deck, you're ready to go aloft.

The first rule on any sailing ship is one hand for the ship and one for yourself.

This means always keep a firm grip on something solid

no matter what work you may be doing.

You've got to learn by heart what every piece of rigging does

and how and where it leads, and what's more,

you've got to be able to find it in the darkest night and in the wildest gale.

You've got to know all the sails and how to

handle them when you're high on the yard arm.

Just never forget one hand for the ship and one for yourself.

It's up on the yard arm where you first begin to realize your responsibility,

not only for your own safety, but for the safety of the ship and all your shipmates.

That's why so many fathers believe that the best possible training of all

in building character and making men is the sailing school ship, the Windjammer.

For almost a fortnight, we've been training in the Oslo fjord,

waiting until the captain is satisfied that we know how to handle ourselves aloft.

At last, we've passed muster and we're heading out

into the Skagerrak toward the open sea.

Harold has asked the captain if we boys can have this empty compartment for a clubroom.

It used to be the coal locker, but now the galley burns oil.

I guess the first really bad storm of the winter has been lying low,

just waiting to find out how well we boys have learned our lessons in seamanship.

One day you'll always remember is the first time your feet feel sure on the deck.

Then you know that you and your windjammer can

weather any storm and ride out the angry sea.

We're deck boys now, standing regular sea watchers aboard a square rigger,

beating across the North Sea on the fringe of a midwinter gale.

The Christian Radich is close hauled on the starboard tack,

averaging 13 knots, pretty fast for a windjammer.

Although we have found our sea legs and our appetites have come back,

everything above and below decks is cold and wet, miserably uncomfortable.

In weather like this, all deck watchers are doubled.

There are two boys instead of one at the wheel and other stations.

Rules of the road give a sailing ship the right of way over steamships,

but the second mate transmits our call letters LJLM

over and over again, so other ships will know we're about.

This is our 20th day, and we're running away from winter

as fast as wind and sail can take us.

Before many hours, latitude 40 north will be behind us.

South of that is fine.

Every day at noon, the ship's position is posted tween decks.

We're heading for Madeira.

It's easy to understand why so many boys used to fall in love with sailing ships

and spend most of their lives at sea.

Our captain has been in windjammers for more than fifty years.

In 1903 he ran away and signed aboard a big cape horner.

After fighting winter storms in the North Sea,

We boys feel we've earned the right to call ourselves windjammer men.

This is really our first opportunity to get acquainted with a ship and our shipmates.

The galley is midships on the main deck.

Aboard all sailing ships the cook is nicknamed 'Doctor',

and the chimney of the galley stove is called 'Charlie Noble'.

Our sail locker is forward, below the fo'c'sle.

At exactly the same time every morning, Oscar Strønen, our second mate,

comes to the chart house to wind the chronometers.

Noontime dinner is the high spot of every day.

You can have all you want to eat, but no waste.

Either eat the whole slice of bread or leave the bread alone.

Stump, our mascot, has no trouble living up to the rule waste not want not.

The captain's cabin is directly below the poop deck on the starboard side.

In Cape Horn days, masters of sailing ships often ate alone,

but Captain Kjelstrup takes his meals with the mates.

If the captain's mess boy happens to be a special friend,

you can sometimes borrow an extra orange or apple or a slice of freshly baked cake.

At sea, once your appetite returns, it never seems to leave you.

Only five minutes after dinner, we line up at the slop chest to buy candy.

The Christian Radich is probably the first school ship

that ever allowed a boy to bring aboard his own piano.

At half past five in the afternoon, boys off watch are free till bedtime.

By now, we have the old coal locker in shape.

It makes a fine club room for boys who are working on their English.

She bought five pounds of potatoes. She bought five pounds of potatoes.

Hey, are you there yet or no?

Ah, no Norwegian?

Twenty-five every time you speak Norwegian down here.

I'll stay.

In time, you get used to the routine of four hours on and four hours off.

The 'tweendecks compartment is our mess hall and dormitory.

The only way 42 boys can be crowded into so small a space is by swinging hammocks.

Once you've learned the trick of climbing aboard and keeping balance,

your hammock becomes the perfect sack.

Of course, grown-ups live in cabins,

a furnished room with real bunks and mattresses.

Before he turns in, the captain gets a picture

of how everything looks, sounds, and feels,

the wind and the sea, the clouds, the stars, and the trim of the sails.

Any new sound, any change in the ship's motion or speed will wake the captain.

Sometimes, dawn finds one or two of us who haven't slept at all.

Sven-Erik has spent the hours writing to

Mr. Arthur Fiedler in Boston, Massachusetts.

His Boston Pops Orchestra made a big hit on its visit to Oslo.

Sven-Erik would like to play for Mr. Fiedler

and perhaps get a favourable letter,

which would help him win the scholarship to study music in America.

Our 30th day begins like most others.

At six o'clock, we deck boys fall in topside to wash down.

Early in the forenoon, we hear that the landfall is expected any minute.

After our noon position, we should know the time we'll anchor, more or less.

The sound of seagulls makes some of us homesick for Norway.

The lookout's three bells means Madeira's been sighted, dead ahead.

Madeira at last, wonderful Madeira.

The climate of Madeira is usually delicious.

Generous sunshine, brilliant flowers, luscious fruit, charming people.

Ideal for a honeymoon.

I don't think any place can be that perfect.

Columbus fell in love with a Madeira girl and he married her.

And Lord Nelson brought his ships to Funchal to

buy Madeira wine and to give his sailor shore leave.

Now it is our turn.

Sure is.

Yes, but isn't nice.

The roads and sidewalks of Madeira are rough and very steep.

When going walking, ladies should not attempt to wear their hoop skirts.

What, no hoop skirts?

By mid-afternoon, we're trying to adapt

our sea legs to the solid ground of Funchal.

On the Portuguese island of Madeira, 2,083 miles south by west from Oslo.

All boys must be back aboard ship by 9 o'clock.

But for a few precious hours, we're free.

Before leaving the ship, the captain gave each of us an American one dollar bill.

Worth about 30 Portuguese escudos.

Even though prices here are very low,

to see all the sites will have to make every scudo count.

Four miles up the mountain, we find the start of the famous Madeira basket sled ride.

The sleds have no guard rails, no safety belts, no brakes.

There's nothing to hold onto but your hat, or if you're lucky, a girlfriend.

Every driver can say in seven different languages, don't be afraid, please.

Just close your eyes, thank you very much.

Now it's our turn to be thankful.

Thank you very much.

tusen, tusen takk

The island's great day is the feast of Saint Sylvester.

Everyone from the Christian Radich and sailors from the Portuguese school ship Sagres,

are on hand for the opening of Madeira's country fair.

In a way, the shepherds who live up high on the mountain slopes

remind us of our lap landers, who tend reindeer herds in the north of Norway.

At the fair, we see many of the beautiful and

useful things the Madeiran country people make.

The steward has promised to put aboard lots of these fresh fruits and provisions.

If a boy wants to take some Madeira wine home to his parents, the captain buys it.

And will keep it locked up until the ship gets back to Oslo.

It's easy enough now to realize why Columbus

and all the great navigators and sailors of history have praised Madeira.

To keep evil spirits away from their little paradise,

the islanders rely on an old custom borrowed from the Chinese.

At midnight on St. Sylvester's, they light 10,000 fires.

From Madeira, we follow the route taken by Columbus.

Now we will have the gentle trade winds,

and so the captain gives orders to stow away our suit of strong storm sails.

It's perfectly safe to use older canvas in this mild weather.

Also, we're dried out enough to get on with painting and maintenance.

Cleaning, scraping, greasing, and tarring.

Trying to get every last piece of ship's gear into tip-top condition.

We can't believe our eyes.

Another windjammer in mid-Atlantic, a four-mast bark.

She's the German school ship, Pamir, a famous old windjammer built in 1906.

All steel to the top of her masts, and as strong as a ship can be.

For years, she was one of a great fleet of German windjammers,

sailing the stormy Cape Horn route to Chile for nitrates.

Like ourselves, the Germans believe there is no better way

to develop character and leadership than aboard a windjammer.

The Pamir is 17 days out of Hamburg, and is bound for Montevideo and Buenos Aires.

On this voyage, she carries 31 grown-ups and 55 boys.

As long as we're able, we continue talking with the Palmier.

Cora, how do you spell sailing?

Sailing, S-A-I-L-I-N-G.

The sea rat.

Day number 41.

Today, two great ladies met at sea.

One Norwegian, the other German.

Both old, but still very beautiful.

The second mate told us how the Pamir was rescued from the scrap heap.

Many sailors who knew and loved her raised enough money to keep her sailing.

That's pretty good.

Lucky for the Pamir.

Okay, let's try.

Oh, fine.

Nowadays, the odds against two windjammers

meeting by chance at sea are millions to one.

It may never happen again.

Good voyage, Christian Radich. Your saucy ship's a beauty. She sails fast, too.

Many thanks, Pamir. Auf wiedersehen.

This is the Christian Radich signing off.

Day number 56.

The stars and stripes at hour four means we are entering United States waters.

Everyone feels the thrill of reliving history.

We have crossed the Atlantic in a windjammer

on the route taken by Columbus nearly 500 years ago.

El Morro marks the entrance to the harbour of San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Since 1951, this island nation has been a

self-governing commonwealth of United States citizens.

Maybe anyone arriving in the full rigour gets special attention.

We certainly do. And everything is on the house.

We are even invited to hear the great Pablo Casals, who is now 80 years old,

playing at the palace of Puerto Rico's governor, Muñoz Marin.

For us, Mr. Casals plays his favourite Catalan ballad, "Song of the Birds.

Leaving San Juan, we speak the Swedish school ship Flying Clipper,

which trains boys for commissions in the Swedish Merchant Marine.

Our schedule has been changed.

Barnacles and grass on the ship's bottom have been slowing us down,

so we're putting into Curaçao in the Dutch West Indies, where there's a dry dock.

Harold hurries together as much information about Curaçao as he can find on board.

Willemstad is the capital of Holland's ABC Islands, Aruba, Bonaire and Curaçao.

The most famous sight is the Queen Emma pontoon bridge,

which opens whenever a ship arrives or departs.

After the Queen Emma bridge opens, you sail right up Main Street.

Lasse has been here before. He says it's like a Dutch village,

only instead of tulips and cheeses, we'll find pretty girls.

In a dry dock meant for big tankers, the Christian Radich

is like a tiny toy sailboat in an empty bathtub.

But she doesn't seem so tiny to us, who have to get her hull scraped and painted

before anyone can go on liberty.

Since arriving, we've gotten a lot of invitations. Some girls at Peter Stuyvesant College

want us to go picnicking with them, and the Norwegian Seamen's Church is arranging a party.

Captain Kjelstrup let us draw part of the money that's due us.

Curaçao is a free port where you can find real bargains from all over the world.

While most of us were enjoying liberty, Stumpf decides he should hit the beach too.

It was sometime before Sven-Erik discovered our mascot is AWOL, absent without leave.

Stumpf was pretty much Sven-Erik's dog, so instead of shoving off for the picnic,

he tries to organize a big "hunt for Stumpf" expedition.

After notifying the police and the radio station, Sven-Erik starts searching all over.

Curaçao isn't a large island. Someone is pretty sure to spot any new dog in town.

The first report said Stumpf was seen downtown.

Then he was heading in the direction of the Governor's Palace, trailing

Susie, a poodle belonging to the Lancasters, the American Consul General.

Stumpf? Stumpf?

While Sven-Erik is missing most of the picnic,

Stumpf and Susie are moving on to the beach club.

The picnic turns out to be a famous Dutch Reistaffel, the

East Indian meal that takes hours to prepare and hours to eat.

Stumpf?

Now we can give our full attention to this wonderful feast, as the Dutch call it.

At least in one respect, we Norwegians are very like our Dutch friends.

We believe no party can be a real success without music and dancing.

We don't have wooden shoes, but we do have the Brinkos we got in Madeira.

The captain seems in a great rush to get on our way to Trinidad.

Has he forgotten that sailing on a Friday is supposed to bring bad luck?

Goodbye.

With a fresh wind coming from the right quarter, we could reach Port of Spain, Trinidad,

within 72 hours. Or it could take us a couple of weeks. That's the way it is in a windjammer.

In the Caribbean, one must always be ready for sudden changes in weather.

Aboard a sailing ship, if it catches you unprepared, a tropical squall can be dangerous.

75 days and 5,200 miles from Norway, and many of us seem to be thinking of home.

Kari waits for me at home, oh, Kari waits for me.

I see her standing there beside the restless sea.

Kari waits for me at home, though I must sail the sea.

I'm a sailor born to roam while Kari waits for me.

Many girls in far-off lands have many charms to see.

They'll not wear my golden bands while Kari waits for me.

Let me ride the homeward winds that take me into shore

'til the day when I can haul my Kari. Kari, girl, once more.

Blow your trade winds, fill the sails, oh, blow your trade winds, blow.

Blow through the stormy gales and onward we will go.

Homeward to the snow-capped mountains rising from the sea,

Homeward to the land I love where Kari waits for me.

Kari waits for me.

It's discouraging to be set back by a current that

carries us farther and farther away from Trinidad.

We drop anchor in the little harbour of Charlotte Amalie,

which once belonged to Denmark.

Here we can take aboard fresh water and provisions,

but we'll just have to wait for the right kind of wind to carry us on to Trinidad.

Today's shortwave broadcast from Oslo says

all Norway is covered deep with snow and ice.

Even the Sognefjord, they say, is so frozen over

that horses and sleds are being driven across it.

The Caribbean is a real Davy Jones locker.

If you're a skin diver, you can explore the remains of many unlucky ships,

like this hull of the Royal Mail Ship Roane, a packet boat that went down with all hands

while trying to escape a hurricane almost 100 years ago.

Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.

But red sky at night, sailors delight.

You hear that steel-dine man?

Do you hear that music's great, man?

Great! - Give me calypso!

Play calypso, dance calypso, sing calypso!

Man, you even talk calypso!

Hey, lollivogs, King Nephtur's coming aboard! Hurry up, it's like carnival!

Here comes the bunny-waking! Efton Hall!

Make way for Calypso Joe!

We've been hearing plenty of exciting stories about Trinidad,

but none of us expected to be welcomed to the equator by King Neptune and his court.

School ships sail thousands of miles and visit many foreign ports,

so boys may have first-hand lessons in human geography.

Education must come before skylarking, and sometimes that's very difficult.

Of course, no one ever gets ashore until after a

lecture about sin and virtue and other matters.

Trinidad is the capital of the West Indies Federation,

the newest member of the British Commonwealth.

On hand to greet the captain are a dozen girls

who have competed for the crown of Carnival Queen.

We boys aren't introduced to the girls, but a few of us do get introduced

to a long, cool drink intended only for grown-ups.

Except for the city of Port of Spain,

the island of Trinidad seems like one huge sugar plantation.

♪ Give me the juice from the sweet sugar cane ♪

♪ Give me the juice from the sweet sugar cane ♪

♪ To make the voices sing, but you got the ring ♪

♪ The juice from the sweet sugar cane ♪

♪ I live on a farm on the island ♪

♪ The sugar cane grow to the sky ♪

♪ Sugar is sweet when the man like to eat ♪

♪ The juice is for when he is dry ♪

♪ Every night when the moon come up ♪

♪ And all day night bird wingin' ♪

♪ We all drink from the friendly cup ♪

♪ And make the most peculiar singin' ♪

Everyone's enjoying Trinidad, but the captain who must prepare his reports

and Sven-Erik, who's restricted for playing the accordion after lights out.

The captain has given us permission

to invite friends down to the ship before sailing.

This means that Sven-Erik won't have to miss calypso

and the Trinidad steel band music after all.

Invitations went to everyone who plays, sings, or dances.

In Trinidad, there's almost no one who doesn't do one or the other.

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Who cares what time it is ♪

♪ When the climate is warm as the tropical seas ♪

♪ Don't you hurry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ I live on the isle where the sun shines bright ♪

♪ Makin' a dollar for me rhyme ♪

♪ Sing to the ladies by the stars at night ♪

♪ And love comes easy all the time ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Who cares what time it is ♪

♪ When the climate is warm as the tropical seas ♪

♪ Don't you hurry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ When the tourists come and he like to rush around ♪

♪ Like a man who drive a taxi cab ♪

♪ Spend all his money painting red in town ♪

♪ And crawl home like a humid crab ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Who cares what time it is ♪

♪ When the climate is warm as the tropical seas ♪

♪ Don't you hurry me ♪

♪ Don't you worry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry me ♪

♪ Don't you worry me ♪

♪ Don't you hurry worry me ♪

The Limbo Dancers of Henry Trim Jr.

They say this dance began during the days of slavery.

According to one story, a master would set free

the slave who could dance lowest under the bar.

The captain is a good sport about our party.

The Trinidad Jump Up is really more lively than he or any of us expected.

Day number 98.

We're leaving Trinidad at noon.

Destination, New York City.

Day number 118.

We're off Cape Hatteras, called the Graveyard of the Atlantic.

With the help of the Gulf Stream, we put mile after mile behind us on our way north.

Everybody's talking about one thing only.

New York, New York, New York.

When Arild Kristoffersen was nine, he spent the summer with an uncle in Brooklyn.

Ask him any question about New York, and he goes on and on as long as you listen.

One thing sure, Norwegians in New York are expecting us.

- Dinners, churches, sightseeing trips.

- We'll have a busy week in New York.

- There must be more Norwegians in New York than there are in Oslo.

- No, not in New York, they are in Brooklyn.

- Well, there are plenty of Norwegians back home.

I want to see New York.

- Yeah, that's right.

- Day number 123.

Fog bound off Ambrose Light Ship,

right at the entrance to New York's busy ship channel.

♪ All the way from Norway ♪ It's lemon juice and corn

♪ But the wine and the food and the girls are good ♪

♪ In the village of New York ♪ In the village of New York

♪ They say in New York Harbour ♪ There's a lady in the sea

♪ She holds a light that shines so bright ♪

♪ In the land of liberty ♪ And we love liberty

♪ They say the buildings grow so tall ♪

♪ They push away the sky ♪ And if you drop from off the top ♪

♪ From hunger, boys you'll die ♪ From hunger you will die

♪ All the way from Norway ♪ It's lemon juice and corn

♪ But the wine and the food and the girls are good ♪

♪ In the village of New York ♪ In the village of New York

♪ They say the subway runs for miles ♪

♪ Way underneath the ground ♪ A friend of mine got on one time ♪

♪ And he never has been found ♪ He never has been found

♪ They say the elevators go like rockets in the air ♪

♪ Your ears go pop and when you stop ♪

♪ Your stomach is not there ♪ Your stomach is not there

♪ All the way from Norway ♪ It's lemon juice and corn

♪ But the wine and the food and the girls are good ♪

♪ In the village of New York ♪ In the village of New York

♪ They say they never dim the lights ♪

♪ Along the great white wave ♪ When day's done the midnight sun ♪

♪ Comes out like in Norway ♪ Day comes out like in Norway

♪ They say the girls are buxom ♪

♪ Like the wind that's in the sails ♪

♪ They dress in pants and when they dance ♪

♪ They swing their ponytails ♪ They swing their ponytails

♪ All the way from Norway ♪ It's lemon juice and corn

♪ But the wine and the food and the girls are good ♪

♪ In the village of New York ♪ In the village of New York

Our most exciting excursion outside New York is to a fireman's show in Philadelphia,

where Benjamin Franklin organized America's first fire brigade in 1736.

Everyone here is proud of the department's efficiency,

especially its record for saving scores of lives and millions of dollars

by teaching the public how to prevent fires.

The reappearance of old-fashioned engines is a highlight of Fire Prevention Week.

I got everybody!

Not many people have ever had the fun of riding modern apparatus to a real fire.

At the Philadelphia Fire Academy, we convince Commissioner McNamee

that Windjammer sailors are qualified to go aloft, fireman style.

Off New London, Connecticut, we sight another Windjammer, a three-mast

bark, the Eagle, school ship of the American Coast Guard Academy.

The Eagle tells us she's starting on a cruise to Europe,

and her first port of call will be Bergen, in Norway.

We wish her fair winds, good sailing, and a happy time in Norway,

and send some free advice on how to have lots of fun in Bergen.

Before we start back to Norway, we'll sail along the New England coast,

which was explored by Leif Eriksson 500 years before the voyage of Columbus.

Sea planes, submarines, we boys can't imagine what's happening, but then it seems that our

Windjammer is providing some diversion for a fast task force of the United States Navy.

The captain is the only one who isn't surprised.

This rendezvous with the Navy was planned long before leaving Oslo.

The Christian Radek is going to follow along wherever the task force goes.

We boys will take turns visiting different types of Navy ships for instruction and drill.

This is a complicated exercise in ship handling.

A high line transfer from a Windjammer under full sail to a high speed destroyer.

It's also the kind of practical seamanship you can't learn from books.

He's your rudder to ten. Rudder to ten, sir.

Rudder midship. Mr. Clark, take the con and rejoin the formation.

Aye aye sir, I have the con. - All right.

Mr. Brosselson, raise and burn to the guys.

Very glad to have you boys aboard.

Captain Crenshaw of the Destroyer Forrest Sherman pays us a real compliment.

We're accepted right away as seagoing sailors and are assigned with men of the sea detail.

Go to midships. - Go to midships.

Right five degrees rudder. - Right five degrees rudder.

- Right standard rudder. - Right standard rudder.

Some of us are invited to watch the firing of a rocket-propelled anti-submarine device.

It's called Weapon Alpha.

Christian Radich boys are probably the first Norwegians

ever to go aboard one of the Navy's guided missile destroyers.

Three, three, one. Raise twenty-four miles.

Standby. - It's all hands at the number two stack. Take cover.

Minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.

Minus thirty seconds. All hands at the number two stack. Take cover.

Minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, zero.

Our windjammer ties up at the operating base as a special guest.

Every day spent with the Navy means you learn something new.

To a school of frisky porpoise, the arrival of a hunter-killer submarine

is just dandy. Another playmate, I guess, to join in the morning's fun.

I'm as ready as I have no respect, Captain. Very well.

Clear the bridge. Clear the bridge.

Torpedo practice is on the submariners' schedule for today.

Zero C, all right. Four degree down, Bobo. Four degree down, Bobo.

After submerging to a depth of sixty feet,

the sub will fire a salvo of three fish.

That's what the Navy calls a torpedo.

All right. Mark, set.

When a torpedo fails to surface, an underwater search party can

sometimes salvage the missing fish if it isn't in too deep water.

Most Norwegian boys are pretty good at skin diving.

Kaare Terland even qualifies to lock out of the submarine with the Navy's underwater swimmers.

Cunning tower, two forward, trunk secured.

The colour of a torpedo's warhead tells the kind of high explosive that it carries.

Practice heads are always painted yellow.

A twist on a valve releases the compressed air inside.

When air forces water out, the torpedo becomes buoyant.

Forward room, cunning tower. Stand by to receive swimmers.

On tubes forward, swimmers entering torpedo room.

On high tubes forward.

All heads standard, left full rudder.

All compartments, cunning tower. Stand by to service two main engines.

By now, nearly everyone had forgotten all about Sven-Erik's

letter, asking for a chance to play for Mr. Arthur Fiedler.

Sounds like he's wound up to go all night, non-stop for 16 hours, perhaps?

You know, that great music always makes me homesick, you know it?

Imagine tomorrow, the distinguished Arthur Fiedler, conductor of the famous

Boston Pops Orchestra, introducing Sven-Erik Libaek from Oslo as guest soloist.

The Greek concerto carries us home to Norway and to the scenes each loves best.

Day 209, South-South East of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

Broadcasts on both sides of the Atlantic are telling about Sven-Erik and the Boston Pops.

And there's more fun coming. We've been invited to enter a regatta

with a Danish school ship if we can reach the ska in time.

But sailing conditions are not good.

The Coast Guard warns us to go way south before heading east to avoid icebergs in the shipping lanes.

And a hurricane is reported moving up from the Caribbean.

The shortest way home looks longest on the chart.

We're on a great circle course around the north of Scotland.

Erik the Red and the Vikings sailed these waters a thousand years ago.

In Copenhagen as well as Oslo, the start of the Windjammer regatta and

the homecoming of the Christian Radich are making front page news.

There will be a weekend of festivities, a fine opportunity for Norwegians and

Danes to talk about one of their favourite subjects, sailing and sailing ships.

The full-rigged school ship Danmark, fastest from the ska to Fulehuk light,

precedes us into home waters on our 239th day.

Ashore there are special programs recalling the glorious age of sail

and a salute from ancient Kronborg castle at Elsinore.

Just off Sandefjord we meet still another Windjammer.

It's the Sørlandet, the school ship from Kristiansand in the south of Norway.

And so we stand up the Oslo fjord together. Danmark, Christian Radich, Sørlandet.

A flotilla of Windjammers paying honour to one of Norway's distinguished mariners.

In the morning news we hear that our friend, the German school ship Pamir,

is in the path of the hurricane and is sending SOS for help.

And some of us begin to realize how lucky we've been.

It's been a long trip, over 17,000 miles, 14 ports of all.

And no burrissig all the way. And no accidents.

I suppose nothing like this ever will happen again to any of us.

When boys in the foretop sight Oslo City Hall,

we furl sail for the last time together.

It was from here on a December day that we started out as landsmen.

We returned as seamen.

You know, Zwanerik, when you first came on board,

I thought you were sort of... sort of a baby.

But you were okay.

Thanks, Kaare.

You look pretty young yourself.

Good luck, Zwanerik. - Bye

A new captain will have the Christian Radich on her future voyages.

Over 70 now, Captain Kjelstrup has served a long,

long time, and he regrets not a moment of it.

Like most sailor-men, the captain is sure

that the tradition of the deep-sea sailing ship will survive.

The school ship Sørlandet and her boys are already at sea,

and the beautiful Danmark, with nearly 100 new boys,

is outward bound on a cruise like ours to the United States.

We're told that in the worrying push-button world of today,

there's greater need than ever for competent, clear-thinking men,

men tested in adversity, men of proven character.

We, who have grown up against a clear and clean background of a sailing ship at sea,

believe that this is the best possible training

for whatever world and whatever work we are destined to know.

Somehow, our feet feel firmer, and perhaps our eyes see further and more clearly,

because we've been fashioned by the school of the sea in the stately windjammer.