Wednesday 10th September 2008 – 18:00 GMT, Ziemia Cieszynska

Every half an hour or so a great, terrifying swell comes, launching the ship sideways so that the whole view becomes sea, and then sky and then sea again. The contents of mugs fly across the room. Sitting here writing, my chair slowly slides away from the desk. Previously secure items work loose, fall to the floor, crash loudly and roll about.

In the face of such determined entropy, the usual orderliness of the ship seems to have been abandoned. The biscuits which once sat neatly (and permanently - uneaten) on a plate in the captain's room are now strewn across the table, along with the sugar from the bowl that sat next to them. Some of his papers lie scattered by the door. Upstairs the carnage wrought by the wild movement of the ship is even more extreme. In the officers' room next to the bridge, maps and journals have fallen from the cupboard and are strewn all over the floor, while the red bags containing spare immersion suits roll backwards and forwards around the room. The two chairs lie on their sides, gently sliding with the movement of the boat (see photo).

The captain keeps promising better conditions “later”. I think everyone's waiting - understandably – for this promised respite before attempting to clear up.