Читать книгу The Captain's Log - Hans Psy.D. Mateboer - Страница 8

Going on a world cruise must be just about one of the most coveted ways of making a statement to the neighbors. Imagine the prospective travelers on tea gatherings throughout the world, or at the second hole of the golf course visiting the country club. Casually, they drop the idea that they might not be around during next winter.

“We are thinking about doing something else, perhaps taking a “world cruise.” Hate the weather here, you know.”

Remarks like this often are made to show off a little. The desired effect could be the opponent’s golf ball ending up in a sand trap or just to create envy. Casually making a remark about world cruising almost automatically puts the speaker in a different league. Normal mortals don’t take a world cruise, even though cruising has become a main stream vacation. The world cruise still stands out as special, and rightfully so. It’s the same for us as well. We all hope to be on the list of officers planned to be on board. I can still remember every single one I made. The privilege of being on board is usually preceded by some ferocious behind the screen scheming and trading of favors.

“I wasn’t planned last year, so it’s about time to put me on.”

We conveniently forget that the company has quite a few other ships, which need a crew as well. I will not tell you how many world cruises I’ve made, but I believe I have had my fair share of them, or not?

Every time again, it’s amazing to see the passengers come on board, usually in New York, as a cruise like this should start there; it’s tradition and nobody would want it otherwise. The far majority of them have done it before, traveling the world at leisure, and they know exactly what to expect. Often they even book the same cabin year after year. At first I could hardly believe the stories of people doing world cruises more than once, but now I find it almost normal when meeting somebody who tells me, she has done it every year for the last twenty or so. Amazing is also the amount of luggage that is carried on board. Twenty or thirty pieces does not seem to be excessive. Sometimes even a complete extra cabin is taken to be used for storage alone.

Watching people always has been one of my favorite diversions. Never do I complain when my wife feels the need to spend extended time walking around shopping malls or to fit new clothes in stores. I just sit down and wait, and in the mean time look around me with great curiosity.

Standing at the ship’s gangway, greeting guests boarding or returning from a visit to another exotic port, never has been a chore for me. It certainly was not, when embarking the passengers for my first world cruise, now about twenty-five years ago. I had been cruising for almost five years and felt on top of the world. The immediate advantage of this five years, being the fact that I already knew a fair number of the guests boarding.

Some of them would leave the ship three months later as friends, while a few … well, a very few I would rather never see again. The far majority of the world cruise passengers are advanced in years, as who else would have the money and above all, the time to take off for a hundred days or more.

There is nothing more diverse in background than the passengers on a world cruise. Some are generous, while others are as tight as can be. There are the old ladies, dumped on the ship by their grateful children, just to get rid of mom for a few months. There are the lottery winners, and there are those who have saved for a lifetime to make this voyage. Not all are rich, but most have fortunes of which most people only can dream about.

The arrival of some passengers is eagerly anticipated by the crew. To be honest, the reasons for this are usually selfish and go back to the basics, which is money. After all, when serving a select group of guests for three months in a row, it makes a huge difference for a steward if a particular person is generous or not. Not eagerly awaited in the least, were two sisters whom everybody already talked about before they even boarded. According to gossip they were fabulously wealthy, but unfortunately, at the same time had a big aversion to sharing even the tiniest amount of their fortune with others.

A crew as a whole can be very cruel in their verdict, and at the same time be very funny in their ways to get a message across. Amongst ourselves we started to call them “Grisella and Anastasia in their very ripe age.” Both names of course were taken from the two step sisters of Cinderella.

There are those people who will never be happy, no matter what they are doing and no matter where they are. At the same time they often seem to reap some grim satisfaction from the fact that along the road they make life as difficult as possible for everybody else as well. Grisella and Anastasia were prominent amongst this group.

Our voyage started on a freezing day early in January. The itinerary would bring us down the coast of South America, through the Straits of Magellan, the South Pacific, and so on. I looked forward to it. After all, how often does one make a grand voyage around the world and get paid too?

It wasn’t until we sailed the Straits of Magellan that I met Grisella for the first time. I was standing at the railing. The evening was breathtakingly beautiful. Snowcapped mountain peaks behind which the sun had just gone down, giving them an incredible red and silver arch, surrounded us. The weather was crisp, clear, and clean. Suddenly a rasping voice next to me scattered the peace.

“Where are we?”

I turned around.

“Just about halfway through the Straits, madam.” I was not able to remain silent about what I saw.

“Isn’t this incredibly beautiful, madam?”

“It’s cold. We should be in nice weather.”

She tapped the deck with her cane, making me believe she expected me to do something about it.

“Well madam, we are very far south, and it’s normal to be a little chilly, and …”

“Stupid answer. Who are you, anyway? I booked one of the most expensive suites on board, and they sent me somebody like you, giving answers like that. I’ll mention you to the captain.”

Open mouthed, I watched her walking away, twice hitting an ashtray with her cane. That she followed up on her promise I found out the next day, when I was called to the captain’s office.

“Please stay away from her if you can’t tell her the things she wants to hear.”

“But, Sir, I hardly said anything at all, she just assumed …”

Waving his hand in an exasperated way, the captain sighed.

“I know, I know. But then avoid her. It cost me twenty minutes this morning talking with her about your behavior, and I have better things to do.”

The voyage went on. We visited Kobe, Shanghai, and many more places I had never been to before. Then we passed Singapore and entered the Indian Ocean on our way to Madras and South Africa.

It was an early evening. I was just dressing for dinner when an announcement shook the peace on board.

“Medical team, deck six forward!”

Even though I was not part of any of this, I knew that something bad had happened. Otherwise such an explicit announcement would not be made. As the location was close to my cabin, I decided to check if any help was needed, even if only by keeping the area clear of curious guests and crew. This turned out to be a good idea, as when I came around the corner into the announced area, I saw our senior doctor literally being attacked by Grisella, while Anastasia was lying on the floor.

“You fool!” She yelled at the top of her voice. “I’ll get you for this!”

“Yes, but it appears she had a heart attack. I need to help her.” The doctor stammered trying to fend her off.

I assessed the situation immediately and put myself between Grisella and the doctor, who right away turned around and started administering help to the seemingly unconscious Anastasia.

With her fists, Grisella pounded my chest with amazing strength.

“Look what the idiot is doing; he is damaging her jewelry! Watch that necklace! He could have broken it the way he took it off.”

Wanting to stop her pounding, which at this stage was becoming rather painful, but at the same time not knowing how, was annoying. After all who likes to fight off a ninety-year-old woman who looks as frail as can be. Seeing the security officer arrive on the scene was the solution, as unlike me, he was paid to be a punching ball. Grisella didn’t notice that now she was pounding a completely different person, and kept ranting about broken jewelry and the cruise being a rip-off. What she also didn’t seem to see was that after a while the doctor sadly shook his head and got up.

To this day, I still can not figure out if Grisella cared or not. When the body of her sister was carried away to the hospital, she kept making sure that every piece of jewelry was accounted for, even to the extent of patting the pockets of some of the by-standers whom she suspected of having taken a ring she couldn’t find.

Word of the incident got around very quick. Anastasia, after all, was well known by the passengers. Hadn’t they made numerous world cruises together? Nobody, however, seemed to think it too tragic an event. After all, at the age of over ninety, this was not really that unnatural. Grisella’s concern, however, was not so much with what arrangements to make, but more so with the associated cost. Anxious, she inquired with the ship’s purser what charges she could await—and above all, how to reduce them.

We never figured out who, probably jokingly, mentioned to her that burials at sea would be free. What happened was that suddenly she started to nag our poor captain that this was exactly what she wanted. Poor Anastasia even had mentioned this desire to her, she stated blatantly, and who were we to refuse her such a thing.

It took quite a few lengthy telephone calls with the head office of our company, before finally the captain gave in to her wishes. After all, why not? No international rules forbid doing so. Seeing him on the bridge later on, grumbling, trying to put a service speech together was rather funny, even considering the circumstances.

At the same time, our ship’s carpenters were busy, crafting a coffin. And to be honest, when I saw the result, I was impressed. Also the makeshift ramp from which it was to slide into the sea, was a piece of ingenious art. Erected in the luggage area, it had a cleverly constructed lever, which would, when pulled, release the coffin, which then through an open side door, would drop into the deep. Our bosun, an experienced old salt, was in charge of the whole contraption and according to his own words, had dealt with similar situations numerous times.

Of course, we did not invite all the guests to the service, after all, a luggage area is only so big. Only the closest friends were invited, and it was amazing how many there seemed to be. Our purser, handling the requests to attend the service, was less sure about the “friend” part of it. While talking to the captain, I overheard her stating that she believed that the invitees were more interested in a diversion on an otherwise normal day at sea, than in paying their respects.

The ceremony was to be held at 5:00 p.m., and the ship would slow down. The day before, the crew spent hours cleaning and painting the luggage area, an activity overdue anyway, and at 4:00 p.m. the coffin was brought up to be placed on the ramp. The bosun had it organized perfectly; everything was well planned and nothing could go wrong. Carefully he directed his men to put it on the ramp and then opened the door to see that there was nothing in the way, so that when ready, it would be one smooth movement.

A few sailors brought in the podium, from which the captain would lead the service, and they intended to put it next to the ramp. The bosun was still inspecting and making some last minute adjustments. After all, he had bragged enough, stating his expertise, and did not intend to let even the smallest detail interfere.

Maintenance on board a ship is an ongoing thing, and often the engineers are swamped with work. All too often repairs in the passenger areas prevail above those needing to be done in those areas the guests normally never see. Sadly, a situation like this had occurred, and again a not-so-urgent repair had been postponed. The oil line, running from the hydraulic pump to the side door, which was opened to let the coffin slide through, had suffered from this neglect, and even while the floor had been cleaned thoroughly, a small puddle of oil had formed on the steel deck.

“Okay, lads, put it there.”

The bosun, directed his guys carrying the podium. Making one last step to position it, one of the sailors stepped in the small puddle and slipped.

“Oooh.”

Desperately trying to keep his balance, he dropped the podium and stumbled backwards towards the slide. The poor man actually could have gone overboard through the opened door, had not the bosun been in his way.

“Hey, watch what are you’re doing,” he yelled when the staggering sailor bumped into him, and in turn tried to keep his balance and stay away from the opened door.

His hands mowed through the air, in search of something to hold on to and found the lever.

Swoooosh … splash!

“Oh my God!”

After that, there was a silence while everyone, including me, rushed to the door to see the sinking coffin disappear in the wake of the ship. The bosun, his face ashen, stared at the spot, where by now, only some surfacing air bubbles still indicated where it now slowly sank towards the bottom of the Indian Ocean. His mouth kept opening and closing, and for a while, he was only able to make some gurgling sounds. It was clear that he had great difficulties expressing his true feelings. What he said when he was finally able to speak, I will not repeat, as it was rather unflattering for the sailor who had given him the shove, even insulting, and very loud. But the same time, he also showed that during a lifetime at sea, a man could get used to making fast decisions.

“Quick, close the door.”

With one hand, he started the hydraulic pump, while with the other he operated the door closing handle. After it had locked, without wasting any further words, he hit the hydraulic line with a crowbar. Oil poured onto the deck in front of us.

“Look what you did, you broke the pipe.”

A slow thinking engineer stammered, his mouth agape. I, however, marveled at the fast thinking of the bosun. This truly was a man of action and quick cover-ups.

“Why haven’t you started yet? The casket should be here now. In half an hour the guests will be here.”

Nobody had seen the captain arrive, his well rehearsed speech in his hand.

“Oh, Sir.” The bosun wailed. “The pipe broke, we can’t open the door. We left the coffin in the mortuary. We should postpone till tomorrow. I told the technicians to fix it, days ago, but so far, no action.”

He continued in front of the engineer, whose mouth dropped open, not able to process in is mind what his eyes and ears were telling him.

“Hmm, well, call it off then till tomorrow. It’s always something on this ship.”

Mumbling to himself, the captain turned around and left.

“You liar! You and your sailor pulled the handle and now you blame it on us. I’ll tell the chief. I’ll …” His hands in the air, the Engineer turned around to do what he had just promised.

“Yea, go ahead. Then I’ll tell him that you are after that redhead passenger, and that I saw you in the nightclub with her last night.”

With a visible effort the engineer turned around and forced a smile on his face.

“Let’s fix the pipe.”

That night, the ship’s carpenters worked overtime, how they did it, will always be a mystery, but the next day a brand new coffin stood ready, identical to the one we lost 400 miles back. The engineer, the one illegally chasing the redhead, had provided some left over pieces of scrap iron to weigh it down to what he believed to be the correct weight.

Even after all these years, I still feel a little guilty about not speaking up as to what happened. On the other hand, the result of me doing so would have created a lot of problems. Maybe the captain would even have decided to go ahead with the bosun’s plan anyway. We will never know.

The next day, again the area was cleaned and the guests gathered to pay their respects to their fellow passenger. The captain did his speech, and I saw that those few crew members standing around who knew what really was happening, had great difficulties keeping their faces straight.

At the end, the captain gave a signal for the bosun to pull the lever, which he did for the second time in twenty-four hours. The coffin started sliding, and when it tilted at the edge of the door, we all suddenly heard a loud and distinct rumbling inside, when the steel shifted to the lower end. A puzzled look appeared on the captain’s face, but there was little he could do, as the coffin had gone straight to the bottom—maybe weighed down a little too much. Anastasia had found her resting place in an ocean she had traveled so many times.