Adrift in the Sea of History

I wake up to my special alarm for Tuesday and Thursday, to the ring tone “Gentle Breeze.” I don’t need to look at my phone screen, it’s 0430 EST and I did not get enough sleep. A few years ago, it would have been anxiety that made it difficult to sleep, as I would get ready for any number of military duties, getting underway, standing watch… the list is endless.

I conduct my normal routine, slightly abbreviated, brew my coffee, and turn on my laptop by 0450. I login to my Zoom and was greeted by the ever-cheerful Dr Cathryn Pearce or Dr Matthew Heaslip. “Good morning from CT,” we would exchange some pleasantries and began the seminar. Classmates from England, a Frenchman who lived in Vietnam, and a fellow American all became regular companions as we completed our MA in Naval History. The assigned reading guided our conversations, while a smaller group than the Monday and Wednesday cohort, we never lacked for stimulating conversations and insights. I remember marvelling, somehow, while working full-time, enduring the COVID Pandemic, and the normal troubles of life: there I was, thousands of miles across the sea, talking about the history of the Royal Navy.

The assignments later became articles, chapters, and even a book, but when I was writing them I felt the true freedom that comes with the limitless inquiries adrift in the sea of history. This may be my terminal degree, I told myself, go crazy, try the subjects you never thought you would write about using methodologies you had previously disparaged. Why had I limited myself before this? Was there anything more intoxicating than being guided wherever the wind took me, finding new evidence on new grounds, where others had been, yes; but always asking could you offer anything new?

The wind in my sails took me to rebrand privateers as Private Men-of-War, as William Monson had once done; then I asked what did Nelson really think of them? It brought me to the dance of courtship in the diary of Louis Parsons, along with his his time in the China Station. I looked through old Bluejacket’s Manuals to find the same argument I heard so many times trying to convince me to reenlist. Finally, it brought me to Henry Breault, a hero who represents all enlisted submariners as the only enlisted among the eight saints, but of whom we knew so little about. Could I add anything new? Could I give back to the organization that gave me so much? Spoiler alert: I was able to, but it was the seminars so early in the morning that gave me the insight and understanding to do so.

There will always be something of the sailor in me, but I readily left those days behind when I embarked on new seas and reached the distant shores, I once only dreamed of reaching, never thinking they were truly possible.

Thank you, I will always cherish those early mornings.

Sincerely,

Ryan C Walker

MA, BA, Qualified in Submarines

(Note: This was originally published in the University of Portsmouth's Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences International Student Newsletter. I was constrained to 500 words, but it was a succinct love letter to my University and the History Department. I cannot imagine a better way to continue my path than with the University. Thank you for everything.)