Rudolph Ellul and Albert Felice have just returned from a voyage on the tall ship Tenacious, which belongs to the Jubilee Sailing Trust, a charitable organisation which also owns the ship Lord Nelson.
Both of these three-masted barques are specially built so that physically disabled and able bodied people from all backgrounds can sail alongside each other, under the guidance of the professional crew.
The Tenacious usually carries a regular crew of nine and approximately 40 crew members of whom half usually have a physical disability.
Mr Felice was the headmaster of the first school for the disabled in Malta and is a qualified sailing instructor. Mr Ellul, who is disabled, was one of his pupils.
Mr Felice kept a log of the voyage.
Our voyage was sponsored by the memories-fund for Kay, the late wife of the chairman of the Malta branch of the Jubilee Sailing Trust (JST). Air Malta offered a good discount, making the voyage possible.
At Heathrow airport in London we were met by Duncan, from the "Two-Six-Heave" Society, who do a lot of voluntary work for the Jubilee Sailing Trust.
At London Docks, we were met by our chairman, John Marshall, and his deputy Carol Stokes and we were escorted on board.
There we met Sue, the medical purser. We signed the forms, were given our watch cards, oilies and wellies and shown to our comfortable berths.
Rudolph and I were assigned to the aft starboard watch with watch leader Ken Halpin, who is a doctor. The aft starboard of the ship was our mustering point and working area.
Working with the aft port watch, we had to set the sails of the mainmast and mizzen, and alter the angle of the five yardarms of the mainmast, all eight of us pulling together to "two-six-heave" from the tireless Jerry, the bosun. Rudolph sat in a harnessed wheelchair at the tail-end, coiling the rope out of the way.
We also had two daily four-hour watches on the bridge, but the two evening watches, the dog watches, were only of two hours each.
Everybody, including the disabled, had a 24-hour mess duty, free pinafore thrown in! Everyone did the mess duty very willingly, helping the rest, as best as they could. After the hard work, all did justice to the varied, abundant and appetising meals, together with the mouthwatering desserts.
Between 9 and 11 a.m., the whole ship had to be cleaned. The bridge and decks were hosed and scrubbed, while down below had to be vacuumed and mopped, with the heads (toilets) and dustbins cleaned. On the first full day, Rudolph and I had to polish the ship's bell and brass commemorative plaques. On the last, it was dustbins and toilets, down below.
At 11 a.m. sharp, work stopped for elevenses. This is where, in my opinion, lies the strength of the British Navy. Tea or coffee with varied cakes, while having an interesting discussion or a relaxing chat.
In this tall ship, personal safety is of paramount importance - while on deck, everyone has to wear a harness, to which a short rope with a snap shackle at the end is spliced. The upper three of five square sails on the foremast and mainmast, namely the royal, topgallant and upper topsail, have roller reefing inside the yards.
The lower topsail and main, however, have to be handled on traditional lines, using footropes, stirrups and jackstays. Those doing this have to wear full body harnesses, with safety lines attached.
Handling sails in the old fashioned way, under the watchful eye of Mark, the second mate, is a very rare and incredible experience.
Rudolph, like the rest, was taken aloft in a well-harnessed wheelchair, under the strict guidance of Simon, the first mate.
The voyage started down the Thames, under the famous bridges, and past the well-known historical and modem sites. On reaching the estuary, we set sail for Zeebrugge in Belgium, and motored up to Brugge, with its vast canal network.
Pushing Rudolph on the ship's wheelchair past the canals and over the bridges, everywhere paved with rounded cobblestones, was not easy, but the sight of the well kept and be-flagged city centre was worthwhile.
Going back through the canals, we came out of Zeebrugge and set sail for Terneuzen in Holland, where we tied to the pier next to the yacht marina, outside the dykes protecting the low-lying town.
The next day we headed for the UK, motor-sail because of light winds. Gale force winds, however, hit us by the late evening. The ship listed a little to port, but the sails kept it steady.
The fine bow entry and canor stem prevented the ship from hobby horsing, and there were no cases of seasickness.
Rudolph was at first terrified when he saw the washing machine effect of the sea-water rising above our porthole but as soon as the royals, topgallant and main upper topsails were roller-reefed, the listing disappeared and Rudolph was happy again. It was decided during the last night to hold a concert with each watch and the permanent crew putting on an act. There were no volunteers, at first, so I volunteered Rudolph and myself.
I joked that from a quarter of a million actors, the Maltese would do something about it. Rudolph offered to sing an English popular song. I wrote a song set to John Styx's aria in Orpheus in the Underworld, describing how I died, went to Hades (down below), became a kitchen slave and was forced by Pluto to wash dishes and cutlery and pots and pans.
Our watch was on bridge duty going up the Thames, in most miserable weather, compared to the fine weather the previous week.
Was it worth it?
Rudolph became more independent and much sharper and was also helping others. He was not only speaking but also thinking in English.
When asked if he would do this again he answered "yes" - but when he had rested from this adventure.
For more information about the voyages you may contact the Jubilee Sailing Trust; Andrew Brincat on 2149 8668; Albert Felice on 2163 2019; or John Marshall on 00 4417 0234 1615.