This morning, with wind and waves still punishing the ship, we arrived at the high-cliff island of Guam.
We’re one hundred and fifty miles south of Guam and making our way north through what mariners call a Force 6 sea.
On ships, people fall. They trip on steel combings and tear up an ankle. They tumble down a stairwell and rip open a knee.
For the ninth day in a row, the tranquility of this majestic bay is undisturbed by wind or waves. From sunrise to sundown, the warm blue waters around the ship mirror the mountains to the north.