THE FLAG OF CONVENIECEN
By Harry Tobin.
In a chilly day of December In the Port of Gevle, Northwest blew with light snow; there was a smell in it, it was a cold flavour of oncoming winter, a few of days ago the ground had been naked and the weather mild, now all the signs indicated that the weather above sixty degrees latitude had taken her finally turn to the winter.
On looking around I found a ship, berthed at the wharf of Andradite. She was laying in the chilly dawn like an up laying vessel giving an impression as if she has been abandoned, and the frozen motionless environment breathed out such coldness that it made me shiver. The only sound to be heard in this cold air - was a slow hum from her funnel.
The hull of the freighter was coloured with a patch of rust and her upper work loomed white She was true enough, not a top model vessel and hardly more than two hundred foot in her length, and her capacity - about one thousand and six hundred cross-tonnage, I judge, by type as of coasters, evidently built somewhere in Holland for bulk and general cargo. On her stern, she bore the name, and her Port of registry: Que. Vadis. Malta the white letters read.
You can take a journey and travel to Germany by the ship, the Agent had told me.
"It can take some time, but anyway, it's the cheapest way to travel, Don't worry. I know you have a lot of time. Perhaps you can give a hand helping for some small jobs aboard."
I promised to do so and after we had shaken hand I went down to Harbour.
The deck was deserted. I couldn't see anyone, no seaman anywhere; there was not a single living soul in sight. The time was early morning and I concluded that certainly not even those bloody sailors stand all the time on deck. When embarked I made noise by stamping my feet before a red oak door making all to know my boarding.
A buff of indoor air with an odour of cooking oil blew through the open doorway and there was a narrow alleyway and from here opened a space into a small room, which I could recognize at once belonging to the ship's galley.
There was a man in this small galley, a busy young man wearing a multicoloured shirt and a pair of blue dungarees.
The busy fellow didn't pay any attention to me and my arrival just glanced at me.
Where can I find the captain? I asked.
With his left hand, the man pointed across the short corridor. "Over there. I think".
I laid my luggage on the bench, then went to the door and knocked on it. An answer from behind the door was a low-voiced. "Jeez. Come in!"
I pushed the door open and entered the captain's salon. It was a spacious, low-ceilinged ship's salon, furnished with typical ship's interior things. A partition divided the sleeping quarters from the main salon. I saw a man in this saloon, he sat under the square-shaped windows; the man on the red sofa was smoking his cigarette, he was bearded, strongly built man in his fifties. When I came in he stood up and greeted me with a firm handshake and I heard his name `Orlov.`
After shifting some papers on the table, this master and commander gestured me to sit down.
" I have heard, you are going to travel to Germany with us, the captain said."
"That 's my idea," I answered.
" Didn't you find an easier way to travel? You have chosen a bad season for the journey".
"I wish to see a little bit of the sea life", I said.
"Oh. I see", the master said and lit his next cigarette, then he picked up a bag of cigarettes from the carton lying on the table, and offered it to me.
"Wholly one?" I asked.
"Yes. Keep it. We have plenty of that sort of stuff". the master said, then added,
"I do not know about a passenger aboard" he straightened his back. Then added. "There is a mutiny in progress among the Polish crew. Well, the cook will still prepare some food, but the crew members, they don't want to get up from their cabins anymore. The Polish crew has formulated some sort of solidarity group and the Chief engineer want to be some sort of Leach Valeca, leader, you know. They don't want work anymore aboard this vessel, with the only exception an able seaman named Janock, but in the last few days, he had begun to avoid me as well. This situation has been ongoing since we left England. But it has now come into its final state. Well. If you still are ready to stay here. Welcome aboard. We've got a life jacket for one extra person. You can settle in the pilot's cabin. The mate will show it to you.
The door opened and a tall young man entered the captain's salon.
"My name is Apo," the man said and stretched his hand.
Apo, the Chief Mate of the Quo Vadis was a tall blond fellow and he led me by the interior ladder up to the upper deck, behind the Command Bridge, where the pilot's cabin located. I saw him being a gregarious, extroverted young man with his nature open and he smelled of cigarettes whisky.
"Here life can be a bit restless, but from this stage, you will have good opportunity to study the sea life," he taunted. "Anyway, we haven't any other cabins.
This is good enough, I said.
Chapter 2
For supper, men gathered in a small mess-room. One by one, and in pairs they came. There were eaters around the oval-shaped table, the captain and the crew; seven men, all told, and the cook. The meal was served on the table; there were beef, apricots and beans.
They eat with no talk, everyone but the captain and the chief mate was staring down at their plates. I could feel the tense atmosphere and there was feeling like in a funeral procession.
Immediately after the meal, I went to the captain's cabin, where the Chief engineer already stood in the middle of the floor. I came just in time to hear the Chief engineer saying in a voice that everyone could hear.
"Captain," the chief engineer exclaimed. "We are not your enemy, but you must understand, we'll not go anywhere with this ship anymore. It is the crew's decision. We are now secured at the harbour of this neutral country. We don't want to postpone this matter any longer. We only need our wages paid and travel tickets home. To be paid off. That's all we want."
Captain Orlov said nothing for a moment, then he turned and picked up a blue file from the shelf.
"Have to look to what the law says about this case," he said and pulled out a sheet from the blue file and then pointed the paper.
"If an employee leaves the ship before ending the contract, he will lose one month's salary and will lose the prospect of a free passage home, as well. Every one of you has been here for only four months, except the able seamen, who has served longer. All of you have the responsibility of having signed and accepted this contract. When I took it upon myself to act as the master of this ship, I also undertook the responsibility to defend the interests of the ship."
The chief changed his legs and his temper rose.
"This ship is not seaworthy anymore!" the chief exclaimed angrily. "This ship has only one generator functional. Captain, you don't know everything. When you were on holiday and this person as a substitute for you," he pointed towards the mate. "We were all in danger of sinking. The Russian mate, who was aboard at the time couldn't sleep for a week because he was worried about the ship's safety. Then we got blacked out at the Gulf of Bizkaia in such horrible weather. On the same night, there was a ship, the "Dustman." It sank and we were nearly sinking as well. When we then finally arrived in Rotterdam, the Russian mate was so weak and emaciated that we could see the bones of his face and it was necessary to send him to hospital. After Rotterdam, we sailed to Denmark without the Mate on the bridge. The able seaman was then acting as mate without a ticket. Say what you like, it is wrong. We're all lucky to be alive. I am not any street boy. We don't want to remain aboard this ship any longer. What I will do, I m going to make a protest against this case."
After this saying the chief turned around and rushed away, I saw him disappearing into the passage of the crew quarters. He had gone down to taken Job's post to his shipmates below.
Chapter 3
By the afternoon the Agent brought a fax message sent by the chartered company. Orlov showed the telegram to me. There was a sharp order; the ship must put to sea, the destination Estonia. That telex contained an order for the ship to be in the loading dock by the next afternoon. Where they promised the ship to be supplied with a fresh crew, and anything else it would need.
Orlov rolled up the telegram paper and put it into an empty glass. "The master's next to the God," he said. Then he took a pencil and after writing something with it, he gave the paper to the Agent.
-Please send this to the charter company; We cannot go anywhere without the crew. The Polish crew will run away, and the ship needs the money and new hands.
By five a clock in the evening Captain Orlov summoned all the crew to the captain's salon. I went along to see what it was all about.
Orlov sat on his sofa; his mate Apo sat beside him on his right side and the Agent on his left. There were papers on the table, and little apart from them could be seen four travels tickets. The crew crowded the room. The captain spoke and there was a sharp sound in his tone.
"You all will have the travel tickets from here to home. The ab will get all of his wages paid up until this day, and, I have bonder about this and I will offer five hundred dollars to each of you. Moreover, I want everybody to know that there is not any obligation to pay even five hundred dollars to you; this is a kindness of my own, which I may still regret. The captain paused and opened a metal box which from he piled out four piles of banknotes and placed in a row on the table.
" Five hundred dollars for each one", he said and closed the box.
I saw how the face of the chief engineer became red. You are crazy! he exclaimed, and with an excited mind, he looked at the Agent then turned toward me. "I want the ITF men here. Right now. Do you know where I can find them?" he asked. I said that I do not know the whereabouts of the ITF people.
With an agitated mind, the chief engineer turned around and marched away, his shipmates following at heels, I could hear an angry murmur went they went down on the gangway.
"They get now ashore to making a telephone call," Orlov said. "They should have accepted the money when they had the chance. Now they will have nothing."
"It's the worst thing to the East Europeans, whatever could happen; They lose their American dollars. Poor devils. Moreover, they have enough money; I have seen all the contraband business they have done," Apo said.
Chapter 4
Captain Orlov lit a cigarette (he seem to smoke constantly), then stood up and brought four bottles of beer from the side locker and offered them to us and said. "Do you know, What's worst, in this case, could be" he opened a bottle and answered himself to the question.
" I well understand them. Even I could feel compassion for them. But I'm not in a position to show any sympathy. At the same time, I could whistle the game. Well, perhaps it is a bit unfair, but it could hit every single man on board this kind of vessel. We could have had - every one of us - the same destiny. It may happen tomorrow. I have no illusions about what will happen here. The only thing we can to do is try to save the skin of our own to be able to defend ourselves against the green beast, against the charters, the owners and any sort of inspectors."
Next morning I began volunteer task working in the abandoned galley. In the firs, pace took inspect over the food supplies. There was a lot of frozen chicken and also various other stuff in the cold storage. The dry food store couldn't be said to be well supplied with food; I found it provided mainly with macaroons and various sorts of hulled grain, tins of corned beef, and coffee.
Spending much time in the galley, doing my best, I managed to prepare a meal from the ingredients I had gathered together. I used escalope of canned foods baked in Argentina. All the time I strongly felt the peculiar aroma of the ship's interior as it surrounded me.
It was seven o'clock in the evening I was washing the cutlery in the galley as I heard a door slamming and a fair-haired man's head appeared in the doorway; the head with a pair blue eyes looked into the galley.
"Did I come to the right place?" the head asked.
"It depends on what you mean by that."
"Is the ship's name Quer Varis? Or however, it's pronounced?"
"You have come aboard right ship," I said.
Now the whole man came into sight and said, "I´m the Engineer, The Chief Engineer. Ulla Tomp is the name - an Estonian."
Despite the bitter coldness of winter, the engineer was dressed in just a light blouse.
"They sent me by plane to Stockholm, then I took a taxi here. ´Kurat! Perkrle!" With an upset mind, he nervously cursed at the doorway. "I am without any money in my pocket and the taxi man is waiting for the payment on the quay."
"Please. Speak to the captain,"
But he didn't need to; the captain and Apo were already here. The Mate got the order to pay off the taxi and Orlov began to examine the newcomer. He made some inquiry of the new engineer's previous vessel and was pleased getting known that the newcomer had serviced before as Chief Engineer on board fishing vessels.
When Ula Tomp had found his cabin and was taking his bunk as a seaman aboard, he then came up into the mess room where I had brought a full can of coffee. He told been out in the Arctic Ocean working in the Russian fishing fleet; many of the vessels were no more than cramped, rusting coffins with interminable mechanical breakdowns, he said
" There were a lot of different machines there, heavy ones and light ones and all the time there was trouble with them. Our technique didn't quite work out very well."
On the same evening two more men arrived aboard, they were Finnish, sent by the charter agent. One of them was tall and fat and the other one was slim and short; both of them were sullen, like two peasants; they didn't even answer my greeting.
Chapter 5
I didn't know what the time was when I waken up by an eery noise in my ears, I got up on my feet, then sat in the bunk. A cold light from the pylon fell through the window, a pale glare lighted the small cabin. A terrible noise was heard, cutting through the night, it came from below, an eerie noise. It sounded just like a howl of a dying dog. I pulled on some clothes and swung my legs over the bunk's edge sat listening for a moment. Sure enough, there was something wrong down below in the engine room.
Trying to reached my hand to turn on the bunk light, the lamp above the bed flashed with the sound of a sharp bang and went out. Then there were, down below, sharp slams of iron doors and there were excited human voices and a whiff of burning electrical equipment. Suddenly the ears tearing noise ceased and a deep silence descended. Several pairs of feet now ran in the hallway and upon the ladder, Alpo rushed up into sight with an extinguisher; the captain was behind him carrying another extinguisher.
When the air was clear of the dust of extinguisher powder, I asked,
"What happened?"
"The generator," Orlov said. "The generator has run-over and burnt itself out. The over-voltage-protector? Why didn't work? Could they been sabotaged ?"
There was no answer to such a question.
"How is the gyrocompass?"
"It's gone," Apo said.
"VHF radio?"
"It was off; it's okay now."
"There is a curse following this ship."
The next two days the repairs carried out; there were two of the electricians from shore and they went up and down by ladders. All the days along men were searching up the damages; finally, the lights in the passages came on, yet half of the ship was blacked out and the work went on.
By the afternoon of the last day, there were numerous damaged couplers changed. It delayed us three days and on the last day, the captain with a gloomy mind wanted to make for the sea the next morning.
Next day at noon we put to sea. It was December and the most darkness season at the northern latitude. The chilly winter day was dusky and the surface of the water in the harbour frozen.
After three brief manoeuvres, Qua Vadis made off, swinging her bow towards the open sea.
The first part of the voyage had begun.
The gyrocompass and autopilot were out of order. The compass that still operated was situated on the roof of the wheelhouse, atop of the monkey island, from where the periscope's tube led through the ceiling of the wheelhouse. A high wooden chair was placed behind the wheel and Apo was sitting on it, glancing at the periscope at regular intervals.
The grey dull expanse of the sea spread around; the overcast sky overhead far over the horizon making the scene more lightless, the sky and the sea melting into the same grey gloomy inseparable element; grey was common colour in this frozen landscape. Further south, in the dusky horizon, there could be seen grey promontories looming out od the sealine.
This almost unsalted sea region is called a dead-end, and it's one of the roughest seas in the world, in the winter you could encounter three inevitable interconnected elements: the darkness, the storms, and the ice., you could also get into a dismal icy-cold gale which could last for days, or a blind blizzard drove by a gale pushing the drifting ice and the ships out of their tracks finally pressing the ships against the ragged seaboard.
A bright point like a flashing light was seen ahead. It appeared to be a lighthouse, standing on an outer rock.
We were out now at the Sea of Bothnia making good progress through the water; the bow waves hissing and our wake trained away and lost. The coastline of the mainland behind us was still visible. now very low and hazy loom in the distant hills.
Suddenly the VHF radio in the corner of the wheelhouse burst into life, it announced the forecast with a gale warning. According to the weather report, there would be local showers to come, and the visibility may be limited to four miles.
I heard the captain swearing. "Damn the wind, dam this ship also. The wind will be against us. It means we can't make headway. This is an empty ship. The weather maybe not all that bad, but it will be too bad for making way and there is no point in battering this lightship against the sea to no purpose."
" There is blow after a blow and after hardness but the Lord will not forsake his children," Apo announced behind the wheel.
Orlov didn't see any comedy in this situation.
"We must take this vessel to shelter in the archipelago," he said and leaned over the chart table. Having checked the navigation chart he straightened his body. "There, we will find it," he tapped his finger on a spot on the chart. "Six hours, and we will enter into the archipelago where we will find an easy place to drop the anchor."
I went below, under the main deck and made my way along the lowest alleyway farther down where the cabins of sailors were situated, and finally came to the door of the engine room. There the noise of engines ran between the iron walls and along the corridor. Carefully I took to look through the doorway looking to the engine room as a man looks down over the edge of a wall, I saw a man down there, it was Ula Tom, he was sitting there aside from the huge main engine studying some papers which seemed been some kind of mechanical plans.
For a moment I stood on the upper platform atop the engine room looking down; it was useless to try to arrest Ulna's attention to such noise. getting complete my surveying I return to the bridge
after a brief moment, Ula joined me. "What's the score below down there?" asked Orlov.
"Problem we not have," said Ula by his peculiar way of speak. "I found the valves, which could steer the warm water into radiators."
"Good," said Orlov; he stood at the wheelhouse window, his nose close to the glass.
"What is our hurry?" asked Ula.
"Hurry? Ah, you mean the speed. She makes eight and a half now."
Shivering in his thin clothes for a while, Ula turned and went back below into the engine room, where it was warm and everything more familiar to him.
After the short dim daylight and the lean coloured sea, there was a long dark evening and black sea under. Various floating lights were seen upon the dark sea, the lights of ships, and there were several bright flashes of beacons from the shore as well.
Orlov ordered a radio phone call from the Stockholm coastal station he wanted to speak the charter.
Through the loudspeaker, we could overhear how the receiver was lifted far away from us, somewhere in the warm and hospitable environment of normal human life.
"Johnson," a male's voice said.
It was a man's voice from the entirely different world; so far from the chilly shipboard that the speaker on the phone could be very well on the moon. Orlov reported the situation,
"We are on the way, but I have decided to stay at anchor for the storm."
There was quiet for a while, then there was the question: "Not any real seaman on board?"
I listened to what will be the answer of the captain for this kind of blasphemy.
But it didn't seem to upset him. He didn't care for it, after a brief silence he went on.
"We here must operate under the circumstances and the weather conditions," hanging up the phone I hear him muttered,
"The shore bastards never learn", he said and stared at the radar.
After midnight there was a noisy roar from the bow as the anchor crashed into the black water and the cable surged up and out of the chain locker.
Two of the chain locks were out in the water and one locked on the windlass; Quo Vadis was riding now on the lee side of the small rocky island and w stayed over the night and till the next afternoon. Then the weather gets worse and there was a drag in the anchor. The order was given to weigh up the anchor and get to move to seek a better anchorage in the archipelago.
Apo accompanied by the two newcomers, whom Orlov was renamed the 'runners,' went to the forecastle head and started weighing up the port side anchor. It was wet and cold and the wind from the south-east came gusting driving sleet. The last weak light of the gloomy day was gone, the day was rapidly turning into darkness, I could see the black small figures popped on the forecastle nearby the rail, and there was the rattle of the windlass heaving the anchor. Then the figures started to move like in a panic, and I saw how one of the runners cam running along the deck. I bent over the windbreak's edge, to see down to the main deck illuminated by electric light; the man stayed there, his face turned up towards the bridge, with his hands cupped around his mouth. He was crying out something: "Anchor..there´s some cable. Impossibility haul." A detached... fragment of the man's words was snatched by the wind.
Orlov started to swear, " Satan, dame!" he claimed. "What a hell there is going on? The submarine electric cable is now in our anchor? Let it go back, then up again" he sharply ordered.
There was the sound of the crack as the anchor-chain turned through the gipsy wheel and descended into the chain locker. During this operation the wind seemed to increase, bringing rain and sleet. Down there on the lee side of the ship there was seen a submerged surging rock, it was seen no more than the distance of two cables and there was rocky shore behind it.
"We're dragging down," said Orlov. "It means we're moving back. Let go more out the anchor chain."
It was more than likely that the survival of the ship seemed to be on the razor edge.
Orlov went to the chart table. A cable or whatever it was, clung to our anchor.
"It appears that we have picked up a cord," he said. "There are many submarine cables around this area. Don't know exactly where. It must be some old, forsaken one. Who knows!"
It was becoming increasingly clear that there was something like a cable in our anchor, thick as a man's wrist. Despite many attempts, the cable was still there, jammed in the anchor. Orlov ordered the anchor down, over and over back down into the water.
The steel-framed clock on the wall of the wheelhouse showed no more than half-past four in the afternoon; it was already dark.
The antennas above and pars in the signal mast overhead howled and mourned and the slanting rain drummed against the windows. Apo came upon the bridge; he was wet to the skin and with him, through the open doorway, the wind struck into the wheelhouse.
"The anchor's is caught on the cable. I am going to cut it free with an axe," he explained.
Orlov shook his head, "If there is power in it, it may be high voltage. It's very dangerous."
"It's a telephone cable, I think," argued the mate. "I'm going to get an axe and to cut it off. What else can we do? There is no water there," he pointed out to the lee side. "We will be drifting ashore soon."
With a reluctant mind, Orlov consented to the proposal. "Okay," he said, "Do it, and be careful."
Apo turned and disappeared into the darkness.
Again the windlass rattled on the forecastle; was seen how the figures suddenly straightened their backs and the ship started propelled herself towards. She was free from the grip of the submarine cables.
At a distance of some miles was a solitary ferry port. A lighted ferry was secured at the narrow jetty, which stuck out into the sea. The rain and the darkness of the night obscured the view to the pier. The ferry's lights loomed behind a squall. We moved towards these lights; the captain had decided to berth along the empty side of the jetty. Standing near the window, keeping a sharp lookout, Orlov steered his ship by a small joystick. The wind and the waves behind us now; immediately beyond the jetty there was seen a faint flash of surge against the edge of the rocky shore. I gathered that the ship had to clear the head of the jetty in the right position - there would be no room for any extra manoeuvring. The first attempt had to success. The captain drove with low speed, studying intently the shape of the approaching jetty, which now emerged under the ferry's upper deck lights.
I tried to see under the blinding ferry's light and then I perceived the outer corner of the concrete jetty. There it was, now at a distance of less than a hundred feet and it drew nearer very fast. The main engine started full ahead; the bow swung to the left and her port side came windward. Then there was the engine an awful run full astern, I felt the strikes of the screw under my soles. The outer tip of the wharf was approaching, the distance between the ship and the jetty drew in quickly. I understood that if the head of the jetty hit the ship afterwards from the mid-ship, it could pitch the stern out and she might rush ahead those few meters past the head of the jetty and ram into the ferry with the strength of an express train. But
it did not happen. With well-timed manoeuvring, Orlov swung the ship alongside the jetty.
The side of the ship hit the corner of the jetty, just a few feet forward from mid-ship and. The bump was so violent that I had to support myself against the wall of the wheelhouse to avoid falling. A line flew over the pier and for a moment there was a great distraction and high activity on the bow; the mate with his tied part was rushing around pollards, both runners flew around, hurried up by the mate, and the-lines flew through the rain and wind onto the jetty.
After getting the mooring ready, Apo came into mess room, his face red and he breathed heavily; as soon as he got his wet blouse off, he snorted,
"Those runners are incompetents! The hell with them. I had to do it all myself; they're not worthy of their salt. Nevertheless, the situation was well in hands. There was well ship's handling; for a very moment, I was afraid she was going bump into the ferry. Well done anyway."
Orlov decided to send the runners back to Finland by the ferry.
"This is a working ship. They have nothing to do here."
During supper, Apo told us he had seen the runners going ashore carrying a large black plastic bag with them.
"Did they steal the bedclothes from the ship ?" Orlov asked.
Chapter 7
The ferry brought a man for us. He was a clean-shaven young man, a real ferry officer. His name was Rolle; he was sober and his handshake was firm. He told us been serving as the chief officer on the ferry and now he could have his liberty time for a week; he wasn't anything like those withered savage sailor. "I have still a week - time enough for this voyage," he said.
It rained all night and the violent south - southeasterly become more violent and howled throughout the night and the whole morning. Then it gradually eased, and at last, went round to the southwest and moderated.
Orlov ordered the engines ready for sea and a little bit later on, when he informed us that the ship would sail, the wind veered to the south and began to abate.
There was a new weather phenomenon to be faced in the northern-Baltic sea. The fog had spread out to sea. We now ran into fog, dense as pea-sup, with the misleading compass we went. The fog hung above the sea and the pale winter sun was shining above the snow-white fog. There was a blinking shone in it and sensation as though we were loafing in the air, sailing thought of emptiness filled white illuminating gas, there was no solid substance, not point of view, the visibility reduced to nil.
"Devil! Are we in the air?" Apo swore. He didn't see properly the radar's screen. he said: "There is the snow, storm, the fog, the darkness, the northern lights and the sun, and all these during one day. I was told that the weather above sixty degrees latitude could ride with seven horses." He strained his eyes to see through of the rubber boots at the display device.
All that day against the waves; by afternoon the sea was flattened down and there was no more roughly sailing but the slaps of small waves and showers of spray. When darkness fell we made landfall off the flat coast region, which was seen as a narrow black streak on the eastern horizon. Making full speed in the eastern direction; an hour later we sailed into a
shadow cast by the cloudy eastern sky and the closeness of the unlit and unknown landscape. There was an isle, in the darkness of night.
The role gave a glance over at Orlov. "You are making for the northerly side of the island. Aren't you. Is it safe? "
"I know the water here," Orlov said, "We will save the time this way; I think there is nothing risky over there. A year ago this road was poisoned with mines and was impossible to use."
After an hour Orlov slowed down the engine then he sent out the first pilot call by the VHF radio.
"We have no chart aboard of this area, so we will make anchorage here. Let's teak stand by the port-side anchor," he ordered.
Chapter 9
The fog had gone, the sea calm and the air bitterly cold. The night around the ship was pitch-dark and after all, bustle ceased on board.
We were hooked, as the seamen used to say; the clatter of the main engine was cased, the hum of the generator was still carried up from below; the shipboard around us was familiar and there was the smell of cooked coffee in the air. Ula was not seen. He was below, among his machines.
A weak solitary light, far away, was the only visible point in the outer darkness; it looked like a little twinkling hole in the black paper. The calm water outside the ship side showed
coal-black and the environment around still and empty. However, somewhere there was the land, not so far away, a rarely inhabited shore.
Now and then I could see a white flash of the white wings of the sea-gulls as they noiseless wheeled across the circle of deck lights. The continually revolving radar's screen was the only means to see the edge of the invisible shore by the green electronic reflections.
At regular intervals Apo got 0n his feet and went to the VHF making a call to the pilot - there was no response; there were the messages between the fishermen to be heard only.
We remain on the bridge in the dimness of the wheelhouse lighted only by the luminous apparatuses. Each of us could have gotten into our bunks to get a rest for a moment, but the vicinity of the new Port kept our eyes watchful.
was straightening himself on the chest containing the lifesaving aids. Orlov sat in his skipper's chair and reclined his feet. Apo was lolled against the wheel.
"I've been aboard the passenger ferry only," Role began to tell. "There you can have uniforms and regular life - It's not used to be an officer in this sort of vessel. I went to nautical college only to be an officer on a fine ship with all the comfort. I couldn't think a job like yours here. What use it to be an officer on such a ship? I can't understand how you can endure all this."
"It's not so hard here all the time," said Orlov, "In the summertime, the living conditions here are not so bad, unlike autumn and wintertime. In the summertime, you can even enjoy. This could be some kind of living. As in life itself, there are bad and good moments. The worst of this is that the owners of this sort of vessel - almost all them ignorant of navigation and these troubles here. The situation is getting even worse; there are too many speculators in the shipping business; they buy a ship somewhere for a cheap price. In most cases, they don't have any knowledge about the ships, no rules, no dues agreements, or shipping or nautical things in general. All that they need is the status of the ship-owner and easy money. Among the ordinary people, there is still a mystical belief about the wealth of the captains and
the ship's owners; it arises from the age of the trading houses when the ship's owners were greed masters and nobleman. These ships fall into hands of indefinite brokers, less as a year later these brokers skin the unaware owner's spic-and-span. We are running the ship without any repairs until she falls under our feet. Our wages are cut down; it's reduced to barely subsistence levels. We will have compensation for our trouble only if everything goes okay. We are like fishermen, whose compensation is dependent on a catch. Every autumn there are singings or getting into serious difficulties many this type of vessel." Orlov got to his feet and walked to and fro. He continued delivering his speech. "The shore bastards will never learn the lesson that when there is the fall coming to this sort of ship needs twice the time for making the same voyage that she spends in the summertime. When the winter comes there could to be entirely different circumstances."
"Doesn't find there any sailors on board?" the mate said.
"Just like that, they blame us; we are impotent and idlers."
At three o'clock in the morning, Apo saw something which caught his attention in the darkness; there were weak navigation lights. The captain scanned it with binoculars. To judge by the alternation of the navigation light, the approaching vessel must be a small craft, although the small vessel's profile was unseen. She might be one of those boats which looked like a semi-patrol boat and half a tug. She was heading straight for us. Similar boats you could see at every freight and fishing port of the USSR. Those strongly build craft been operated by civilian and military supply and demand. Now the unknown boat had drawn so close that it was possible to see the white mane of her bow's wave, under her red sidelight.
"She is short of the red top light," Orlov said, "However; it could be the pilot boat. Let's stand by the ladder."
The boat drove alongside. There was a yelping sound as her rubber fender touched the ship's side and from her howling exhaust pipe poured out ill-smelling smoke into the circle of deck light. The strange individual who was assisted on board from that boat was an old bareheaded man dressed in discoloured overalls.
"Is she a Finnish ship?" The man enquiry after he had got to his feet and had climbed up into wheelhouse.
"No. She is registered in Malta and flying the Maltese flag with a deadweight of a thousand six hundred tons, length overall; two hundred and twenty feet. Middle draught ten feet, and we, almost all aboard, are speaking Finnish," Orlov informed the pilot, then he let the pilot man know that the gyro-compass was out of orders "Yet the radar you there have anyway?" said the pilot.
We started for the Port.
There was great uncertainty in the pilot's actions. Voiceless and fidgety, the pilot peeped through the windows; it seemed that the pilot wasn't aware of his task. I heard the captains inquire whether the course was good. There wasn't any reply of the pilot or command for the steering.
"It is the fishing port there," the pilot said, pointing by his hand forward. "Everybody there was asleep at home when a fisherman let me know that there is a ship calling the pilot."
"Didn't you know we were coming?"
"No, we did not."
Regardless of his uncertain lower position, the pilot tried to keep up appearances.
Orlov lowered his tone, "What oldster is this?" he whispered to the mate, but our pilot man overheard the question.
"Not just any oldster," he said angrily. After that, there was annoying silence on the bridge.
Rolle was standing at the radar, watching the electronic reflection on the radar's
screen.
"Is the course we are keeping on correct now? I think we are heading directly to shore," he said.
"The compass is stacked! Get up to the roof of the wheelhouse and shake of it!" Orlov ordered the mate. "The vertical axis of the compass is worn and when the sea is calm as now the card getting nowhere and to stay immobile."
Footsteps rang on the roof of the wheelhouse.
"Well, now it will show the correct direction."
It was daybreak when we arrived at the mouth of the small harbour and the harbour area began to open up before us. Here and there were white-painted fishing ships laying head to stern with their sides rusted.
"They have been fishing at the Northern - Atlantic; the ships get rusting out there. You know, it's the saltwater and gales there," the pilot said. Then he pointed out to a place behind a fishing vessel.
"There is a place for our mooring."
Despite the early morning, a group of men was gathered on the quay, a bit apart from them stood a lot of soldiers, wearing long green mantles.
Leaning his bulk out over the edge of the windbreaker, our passage courier greeted the men on the quay with a cheerful hail, and the bunch on the quay shouted back in the chorus which sounded like: "Tere tule mats, Tere ulemas." Judging from all this, I concluded that a foreign ship has made a rare visit to this Port.
By seven o'clock in the morning, we were tied up and immediately after the gangway was laid down, the grey-clothed men rushed onboard and occupied the ship's salon.
There were the agent, the sipping the customs officer, the border guard, and three young men dressed in their best, and in addition to them a few port officials.
"Well quite a long time we have been waiting for you," they exclaim in the chorus.
"These three men will be joining as crewmen," said the agent; he pointed at the three men who were hanging back.
I saw the anxiety movements of them; perhaps this was the first opportunity for them to get hired aboard a foreign ship to earn the American dollars. Standing there wearing their black suit, these three men wait intently and when their time came they offered their seamen's books to the captain to see. Orlov glanced over those papers and ordered the mate to show their cabins. An hour later, the commission went ashore, leaving a lonely sentry to keep an eye the gangway.
In my cabin, I undressed and got into bed. Before I fell asleep I could hear the booming of the cargo hatches and there was the sound as several vigorous soles strides along the iron deck. That was the sound of work aboard. The routine aboard had begun.
Chapter 10
It was later in the afternoon when I woke. I felt brisk and after I was dressed and ready to descend there was a smell of fried fish coming up from the stairway. In the Galley, I found the new able seaman by the gas cooker. His name was Preku. He was an Estonian. At once I found him being an extroverted young man. When I enquired wherefrom he had got the fish, he answered, "From the fishing vessel in front us. We have known some friends there. They are decent fellows, and so they offered these fish to us."
He spoke Finnish; his Finnish was good and his articulation faultless.
As I wondered about it, he smiled.
"O yes. In Tallinn, we're within the range of Finnish television. We always watch Finnish TV; it's our tutor, though the advertisements, you know, they are the best."
Because I had nothing to do on board, I made up my mind to go ashore, have a walk, and get to know a little bit about the town.
I walked along the pitted road the firm soil felt well under my feet. The road was lined with trees, all bare and the pools of water were frozen. There was a row of wooden houses aside from the road with well taken care of yards and grass.
I came into the town past the houses. On the narrow street, I passed the first shop. The noise of traffic rang in the narrow streets and the street was jammed with people. In the centre of the town, the streets went narrower and the air was filled with colourful odorous and the gateways stank of urine. I entered a store to see; inside I found the store being poor and the displays in the shop window been plain, and there was a smell, the customary smell all in
they; it was the general smell of the USSR, the origin of which might be in some chemical in the consumer goods.
The market was crowded; the multitude was dressed in colourless old-fashioned suits. For an hour, I walked aimlessly. Then all that began to feel a bit monotonous and when I saw the door of the restaurant; I went in and found a large dim room. The room was occupied by tables covered with white cloths and long, heavy curtains hung before the windows.
Behind the counter, someone stirred and in a dim corner of the room sat a group of men.
I ordered a vodka and when I was sipping it, the door opened and a drunken man, wearing white unbuttoned gabardine, entered the restaurant. With drunken interest the man took a glance over the room, first in the direction of the group sitting in the corner, then he fixed his eyes on me; he came quite close to me. I felt his breathing.
"How did you come?" the man asked.
"By the ship."
"Which ship?"
"That one that arrived in the morning."
He put his arm on my shoulder.
"We are friends. Estonians and Finnish are always friends together," he loudly declared.
Then he turned toward the group of men in the corner. "This one is from the ship. The ship in the Port." He noisy announced, "Please enlist me on your ship; I can do everything."
I shook free myself. "I am not in such a position aboard that I could hire someone," I said.
"We are Negroes," the man exclaimed with disappointment and went with tottering steps to the table.
"We are Negroes!" he repeated. There was something low spirit in this drunken declaration something which reflected the deep reduction of the nation. I gulped up my drink and left.
From far away I could see the movement of the cranes, the loading had begun. When I returned aboard it was supper time. The mess-room was full of eaters; there was present the nocturnal pilot, as well.
When he discovered me, he greeted me heartily. He has changed his language into English,
"Can we talk," he asked.
"Of course, we can."
"Was told," he said, "that you have worked as salesmen." I nodded, he added,
"I have a small boatyard, with my friend; we are working there. We build wooden boats. They are not very big, less than five meters in length." He drew out a folded paper from his bosom pocket. "Here is all the technical information about her. I have been designed that all myself; I thought that because now we have the `Glasnost´, you know, the age is a bit more informal. If you could find out someone who will be interested in the affair - Of course, you must have your commission. Do you understand that here we haven't any money; and we have rubles in use? With them, we can't buy anything now." He spoke, explaining his plans. I promised to make inquiries, I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.
Later in the evening, one of the newcomers, the machine assistant, invited us, the captain, me and the mate, to visit his home. "There my wife will set on the table something special," he said. There was a completely disarming sincerity in this summons so that was impossible to refuse it.
About half-past seven o'clock, a car arrived at the side of the ship.
After driving through the town we were in Uptown, in the residential area. There was a detached house with a dim yard, and within a circle of dim light, opposite the house stood the motif for everlasting pride, the sauna.
This grey-painted house was overflowing with hospitality. It was an old house, sort of self-made from pieces of wood; the scene was rural. The wife of the engine assistant stood in the lighted doorway and she welcomed us with a friendly smile and hospitality was abundant. We wined and dined, enjoying the plentiful table. All the time we tried to work out how we could find a way to tell, without hurting the master and mistress, that we were thankful for all of the attention and entertainment we had been given. But that yet we would like to get to know the town by night, for, tomorrow there will be workday and the sea. We toasted for the kinsman of the Ugri nation and unbroken friendship. At long last, the cousin of the machine assistant drove us to the town; there, he, in front of the restaurant, squeezed our hands and swore everlasting friendship.
The dance was already running. A loud orchestra was playing and the sound of the soloist rose and fell in the smoky room. Making our way through the crowd, we managed to get a table near a table where sat a cheerful party. Despite all of that noise and throng, I could smell the odour of the sweat of the waiter.
In getting started with the first drinks, we were discovered by the party at the other table, and we were invited by overdramatic gestures to join their jolly company at the long table. Orlov got the seat at the head of the long table. The Big Daddy of this party seemed to be a man who held in his possession the other head of the table. With a hurried gesticulation, he cried beer for everybody. He reached across the table and shook hands with us and introduced himself. His name was Hans and he was also the leader of the Combinat. He was a man in his middle-aged, short and plump like the loco of the Micheline advertisement.
"Here we are going to start the new life!" he roared, lifting his vodka glass.
Beside me sat a woman "I am a Finn," the woman said. "Believe me, I am a Finn. Do you know why I live here? I have two children but no a man. My money is not enough for anything. So what, if have? I have nothing to pay. I am a Finn; I belong to Finland."
"We'll make business," said the chief of the Combinat. "The cargo that you will carry to Germany is from our Compinat. Life here is going to change."
"How miserable we have it here," began the Ingrian woman again," I have visited in Finland; there it is all better than here. I saw how the people live there" She pulled out her passport with reddish cover. "Here, have a look at this passport of the Soviet Republics; there are marked the origins of the people. Look here, it isn't in my passport: Finn origin. Why does no one believe me?"
Apo took the passport from the woman's hand and took a glance at it with drunken eyes. "Yes, so here is," he exclaimed.
"I m Estonian and I live on a small island off the coast of Estonian," said the woman at another side of the table.
"Is your husband fisherman?" I asked, but she didn't answer.
"Do you know," the Ingrian woman spoke again. "A few days ago children found a wad of banknotes from the beach. So much money on the beach... What could it be? It's not normal - robbers' money, what else?"
More vodka was brought to the table.
There was a great curiosity in glances given over the table.
"Could we have here something?" asked Apo.
"Try having a dance," I said.
«Children took the money up to the Millis, was that right? How many months I have to work for that sum?"
Suddenly Orlov straightened himself. He pulled out a bunch of paper rubles and threw the bills on the table. "If this is all that you need, please take it. We will sail out tomorrow and after that, I won't need this kind of money anymore."
All the party at the table looked the money on the table then they looked at Orlov and then at the Ingrian woman.
"I cannot take it," the Ingrian woman said. "You are wealthy and you can throw your money, but I cannot take it."
"You all here," Orlov added, "seems to believe that out there in the western countries there live wealthy people only. I would like to say, don't believe all of that shit, because the truth is disparate; there exists plenty of poverty. The people there are no different than the people here. For example; more homeless than I am you seldom see, I haven't even a fixed postal address on the shore."
"But you are the captain, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. Although I have sometimes sensation that I am more rescuer of shipwrecks than the captain."
Chapter 11
When I opened my eyes I saw the clock on the bullhead; it showed eight and I supposed it being morning. I shut my eyes and tried to work out where I was. When I opened my eyes again I saw a thick bunch of electricity cables running along the walls, and there was a small bookshelf, and backs of the books like the Admiral's List of Lighthouses, Baltic Pilot, and the Radio Medical.
Suddenly it dawned to me that I was lying in the bunk of the cabin of the pilot aboard a vessel named Quo Vadis. It was just there where I should be. so it was ok, Except a terrible headache.
I descended into the mess room trying t find some water.
The door into the captain's salon was wide open and from there I overhear vociferous talk. I peeped through the doorway. Orlov was sitting at his regular place on the sofa. On the table before him were some papers. The loading superior stood on the floor and said, "The matter of fact is that there wasn't any forklift truck available. The forklift was needed, but as I said, we don't have it."
"But we had an agreement for full loading full cargo up to 1200 tons," Orlov
snarled.
"With the crane it was impossible. We got just 170 pallets loaded in there, according to the list of the tally," explained the superior. "The cargo hold is full. You should undersign this."
"Bloody damn," Orlov swore.
"Kurat! What to do?" swore the foreman.
"Just want to say that there ought to be a cargo up to1100 tons!"
Finally, Orlov accepted the fact that in the cargo hold he had less of cargo than
he planned.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, the Que Vadis took off and made her way to
the sea, bound for West Germany.
Beyond the mouth of the harbour lie the Grey-bearded Sea with green beast ready
to tackle the ship.
Chapter 12
It was a terrible night. I couldn't sleep; an ashtray was thrown down to the floor. The whole cabin was rolling heavily from side to side. The clock showed five in the morning; I got dressed and staggered into the wheelhouse. There was Apo on his watch; I fell against the helm-man, thrown by a violent lurch of the ship.
Orlov was standing by the window. "Do not keep this direction?" I heard him saying. "The cargo in the hold is not steady enough."
"No worries," said Apo. "You will hear it if something happens."
There was a violent lurch to Port; I heard how the wave was breaking over the rail to the deck. After that there was an awful reverse rolling movement to starboard, then a new rush t against a huge wave. The deck under our feet was not rolling back. She has heavily tilted to starboard. From below came a deep rumbling sound; the cargo had shifted.
"The helm hard to starboard!" there was a command.
"We must get her to up."
He slows down the engine. " It always does it against the seas.. it always happen so. There must be some abrupt movement. Which get the cargo move" I heard him murmured.
I had a fearful inkling in my mind that something awful and fearsome was going on. I stumbled out to the wing of the Command Bridge; the cold wind struck my face like a wet, ice-cold rag. Faced forward to the howling wind and empty darkness, I stood by the windbreaker and supported myself against it. The gloomy scene was there before my eyes; looming out with a weak lustre of the wet iron rails, the brink surfing upon the hostile sea under the sombre overcast winter skies and biting Baltic Sea wind. The spectacle was unnerving enough to give rise thought that the ship is doomed, this kind of thought almost got the upper hand on me, so that I had to put my entire will to preserve my peace of mind.
In the dim glow of the mast lanterns, I could see
the vague shape of the bow, its
dark outline
delineated against the white foam, rising and falling in a saw-see motion, and there
was a white surge as the seas washed over the lowered gunwale.
The thought to be doomed haunted my mind; under my feet, there was the wet grave for seamen. Such an idea coming in my mind did not improve my momentary state of mind. I tried to stand, seeking the support of the cold rail, unable wholly to accept the translation of dream to reality.
The ship was not the safe means of transport any more Its has become a threat, like some menacing unknown object and the before so familiar shipboard has changed at once unfamiliar, and the scene with the damp darkness outside, the wet shone of cold iron, just like gravestones in the moonlight, that all struck into my consciousness, and there was the ruthless snoring of the main engine on the background. like a gloomy symphony of the doomsday.
Climbing uphill from the bridge's wing into the wheelhouse, I deeply regret have ever undertaken this dangerous voyage.
The results of the captain's action were seen.
The bow came up into the wind; she shook herself a bit and lay in the doggie-paddling without making headway.
The crew have come on the bridge, wordlessly they got dressed in their life jackets and then, standing quietly in the wheelhouse, swaying themselves with the ship's motions. I could see their countenance; pale and frightened. Among them stood the engine assistance I had never before seen an expression on a human face like that. It was dull and frozen with fear. He stood and stared somewhere with wide eyes.
Orlov pointed to life jackets. "For caution, because we don't know what will happen. For safety...nobody knows. If she will go, it will happen quickly."
Captain Orlov picked up the telephone. "Pan. Pan. Pan," he uttered to the radiotelephone, "This is India, Bravo, Alfa, for all stations!" The nearest Port which we could hope to find was past twenty minutes to the north-east, on the coast of this unfamiliar region.
It was in vain; there was no response. There was dead silence only; we were alone.
The captain now addressed the call to the other coast station.
Five minutes wore on then another five minutes. The radio remains mute.
After three calls there was an unsure sound of a female on the radio waves; she spoke with broken English.
"What are your trouble?"
Despite the severe situation, I thought that there was the word ´problem´ frequently occur in the verbal expressions of East Europeans, it's so common that all the problems are only one portion of million problems, and there is no one who will take seriously this well-worn word.
The captain spoke, explaining the situation for a while; he asked to have an escort to make the nearest Port. The answer was silence; there was the hum of the waves only. Then from under the hum, there was the same monotonous sound of a woman again, "What is your problem?" she asked over again.
Orlov held the receiver in his hand and turned to us. "Someone here knows the Russian language?"
"I do," said Greek. Orlov gave the phone to him. "Tell them we will make a port, and require escorting while we get there."
The AB spoke to the radio then he hung up the phone.
"So what?" asked Orlov.
"They will make a connection to somewhere; I don't know where," said Preetu.
Suddenly the wheelhouse was full of the noise of communication; there were several stations in the air at the same time.
"What they are going to do now?" inquired Orlov.
"They're talking it over," Prete said.
Half an hour passed and nothing happened.
At dawn the surrounding sea came in sight, Orlov repaired turn Que Vadis with her heavy list toward the nearest Port. She did swing just a little during the operation, and then she took a stand to her new course.
The seas came now from aft; the increase of daylight obliterated the feeling of disaster. I heard Orlov pondering aloud, "I don't know if there is possible to continue the voyage," he murmured. "During the day of the steamers, the ships were slanting by the weight of the deck cargoes, already before her departure. But it was natural and under control, not like this. We don't know how much the cargo has moved. And it could move even more. There are empty bottom tanks," he added. "It means that there is three hundred tons buoyancy. If this vessel goes down, she will land in the seabed upside down. So, it's better to seek shelter."
With the slow engine, we headed for the nearest Port. The first coastal region that appeared insight was a flat treeless strip of land.
At noon, near the mouth of the outer Port, the pilot came and boarded. The pilot was a tight-lipped and taciturn man. He steered the ship inside the mole. We saw three people there on the quay awaiting our arrival: a female agent with two men; one of them was a soldier.
They were waiting motionlessly as we got ready the mooring, then they climbed on board the female going on the head.
The gruff female agent made into the salon bearing a portfolio under her right arm. She made fast progress with her high heels. At first, she pressed that the captain must make an application for the haven. And to the question of the crane, the female agent answered that they haven't any cranes at hand. There is the ordinary harbour might be some, but don't here and in any case, not today.
When the wench and the fellow went to the shore, they left the soldier keeping guard over the gangway.
We were once again secured at a jetty. If there was any disappointment among the crew for this delay, they didn't show any demonstration.
The day went by and by the next day's evening, when I was on way returning to the ship from shore, I came into an anxious officer of the Borden guard at the gate of the harbour; he was clearly angry. He looked at me. "There is going be some harm," he said.
I hasten my pace; already from afar I could see that the ship's position had changed; her side had risen and the whole ship was inclined outward. There was a steady blow of the wind and the boom of breaking waves. With regular intervals, the waves lifted and lowered the ship behind the edge of the pier. The weather side of the ship was out of the water like a part of the brink of a sinking hulk.
All hands were busy on the deck, pulling out the cable ropes. Broken mooring ropes were replaced with new ones.
I found Orlov standing on the deck, wearing a green anorak coat. He smoked his constant cigarette, and at once I saw that he was in good spirits.
"You see!" he said when he saw me coming. "Here the waves are beating the ship against the pier for just an hour, and the cargo has shifted more and it looks like she will capsize here beside the jetty. Perhaps it could be best. We took the initiative."
He was pleased to be right about the situation. "We'll see if it won't make a little bit of action."
Early in the morning, a tugboat took us into the inner dock.
On the same day, the cargo hatches were opened and a crane began to lift the cargo out.
At the table, for afternoon coffee Ula examined the list of a German ship-chandler. The lists of ship-chandlers were objects of more interest for him than anything else. He spent all his leisure time examining these lists, smoking all the time his bad-smelling `Bellmore` cigarettes and was waiting with impatience for the day when the ship would arrive in Germany. Always when the occasion was offered, he tormented me or the mate with his inquiries: How much will this or that cost in the Germans shops and how much would it make in dollars? His daydream was a welding machine. "When I will have `Kemppi,`" he said, "There will be no more troubles with my economics, not any more. I could repair the cars of my neighbours and earn some money. All will be okay when we arrive in Germany." Pretu laughed at Ula´s faith in the German wonderland. "All will be in order when we will arrive in Germany," he joked.
"Look here, Pretu!" said Orlov, "You know the language and the customs here. I am hoping that you could act as liaison officer between the ship and the shore bastards. Tomorrow we will need the timber for supporting the cargo. You could ask them ashore wherefrom we could find the cheapest. They could not deceive us so much then. Would you be like some kind of ´Polish truck´? Wasn't there such a man on your previous ship?"
"Yes, there was. We called them `Popolo´."
"You are now appointments as a political officer." Apo giggled, he had opened a bottle, "For that glory, we propose a toast. One man ashore told me that there is a club there nearby the dock.
"But try to keep in mind that tomorrow is working day," Orlov reminded.
The doormen of the seamen club gave a glance at the unshaven essence of Orlov and his faded coat looking at some down-and-out. Olov was attired in jerseys and in his green coat which gave him outfit like a poor fisherman. The red-necked doorman looked at Orlov's rough clothes that smacked of the sea and the ship, and wanted to know whether Orlov was from some ship or not, because to others than the seamen the club was closed. When we entered, the doorman glanced after us once more with great suspicion. But Captain Orlov didn't so much care for the way the doorman surveyed him.
The club was full of seamen. They were gathered from the vessels of the harbour, mostly Soviet Russians. Farther back in the corner of the room there sat group of bluejacket Russian deck officers. They had female company and there were sitting at a table a frivolous party with their shine of brass buttons.
The opposite booth was occupied by the Dutch crew, lads from a Dutch ship. A black fellow whom I at once recognized as a sea-cook had brought with him a full dish of sandwiches; the sandwiches were made with skilful hands. "The line shipping men," said Apo. He seemed clear all about the Port. "We also could have taken something with us," he added.
"What do you think we have there onboard? Some frozen chickens may be, and, of course, Baltic herring; we could have taken a herring here," asked Orlov.
Pretu burst out laughing for the idea. "Well," he said, "In the Soviet Union no one eats stuff like herring. Nobody would want to look poor. In Estonia, the people formerly ate a ´´, but the Soviets don't eat herring. Did you see there at the doorway, the doorman didn't want to admit the skipper here; the doorman considered the skipper as some kind of homeless drunk, who can't have at work anywhere afloat, such a man. It's a Russian habit.
You would have to be dressed in a brass-buttoned coat with polished shoes. Just like the officer man."
Immediately behind the street, by the harbour, on the first floor of the grey blockhouse, was the location of the Bureau of Inflot - shipping. There was an agent, dressed in a grey suit, a pompous minor officer of the KGB.
I asked to use the telephone to make a call.
"No way," the man said roughly. "We don't have the bank security from your charter company. Before that, we cannot do anything for you."
In the next morning, Apo showed his head in the doorway of the pilot's cabin. "The planks have come on board," he said. "Will you come along for voluntary work?"
I got up willingly. I knew that after the task we would finally go to the sea, to
move on.
All the day we worked hard in the cargo hold. The wood was grey by the weathers and their firmness was weak, but there was no other choice at hand.
The day wore on and a little before evening, when the work was done, Orlov took a view into the cargo hold. "All's done for the cargo now; I won't get rid of all this." It sounded like a creed or epitaph. He gave the command to be shut down the hatches.
There is the narrow dock, between the high structures and at the shadow of the hulls of the surrounding ships, the wind seems to be weak.
The weather forecast was gone without been heard. We made for the sea before midnight. The pilot came on board, soon after the ropes were cast off; we drove with the guidance of the pilot, up the river, towards the open sea.
The pilot was a little dry, flurried man; he simply shouted the commands to the helmsman. He was a Latvian and he felt proud of that. Between the commands to the helm, he told us how his son had asked in the shop to service himself in the Latvian language.
"So big boy, and not speaking Russian," the salesperson had said. "Can you imagine? My son, Latvian by birth, in his own country and must not speak in the shop in his language."
After this saying, the pilot began to shout a command to the helmsman in Russian. "Briema! Leave!" he cried out
The sound of the broken waves carried up to the bridge. At once, when the bows came between the apertures of the moles, the spatters started pattering against the windows of the wheelhouse, blown by the wind. The pilot buttoned his coat up and took his bag.
"I will leave here," he pointed out to the beacon buoy.
"Take her around the buoy. After that, you can take your course where you want." He hurried below where the pilot boat already quaked against the side of the ship.
We set the course into the south.
Chapter 13
In the next morning, I woke on the bed well-rested. In the mess room, there was the other able seaman, who was called Ivar; he was a tall man with a dandy moustache; the engine assistant was with him.
I picked up a cup and joined the company.
They were engrossed in the list of the provisions to get in Germany. When they saw me coming they laid aside the list.
The sea was nearly calm, just here and there was a little grey wave lifting its head.
"What do you think? Should the ship stay there in Germany to lie out?" the o/s asked. I told them that I did not know, but I thought that the ship would need a lot of repairs.
They began to count how much money they would have. They decided that the money would be enough for a leather coat and sportswear.
The mate's watch began at noon. I went up the bridge as well. The captain was bowed over the navigation chart and made his notes in the logbook. The ship rode easily, rolling slowly from side to side through the greywater.
The wider range brought on the radar screen the edge of the coast of the Cortland and off there were two ´pips´ of ships.
"There is the tip of the southern Cortland and there are large ships on their way to the south," Apo explained.
I went out to the wing of the bridge; Apo stayed beside me. "Some years ago," he began to tell, "it was a time when I served as AB; I had a watch with the mate on the bridge. It happened somewhere here in this same area. It was a rough, night. Suddenly the mate asked me if I could to see the same thing as he saw. Yes, I saw it. There was a large area of the sea illuminated by some undersea object. It was an eerie undersea light; it wasn't any crapulent illusion; it was the real thing and it really happened."
"What it was?" I asked.
"A submarine," said Orlov; he had readied the logbook notes and stood now in the doorway of the wheelhouse. "It was a rising submarine; they will illuminate the surface above when they are coming up to surface. When the submarine is submerged at a depth of about twenty meters, the beam of the searchlight shows on the surface as a luminous circular patch of ill-defined limits. It's nice to know when you are at sea. Keep off the area; don't believe that
they always know that you are above them. Better keep away and give way to them. The Swedes are making noise about the Soviet submarines, but one could say that it is a storm in a teacup; crowded; the submarines are much more dangerous then there off the coast of Sweden. How many fishing boats have they jerked and damaged their nets? Well, little about that has been informed. There is a middle depth of less than a hundred meters in the Baltic and the North Sea. As I know, the most common towing cables of the tugs are a length of about three or four thousand and at a hundred feet, a cable like this will sink and swim at about a hundred feet under the sea's surface; it means that the submarine could hear the noise of the tug's screw, but not see the cable and the barge. So they can become very worried. And as everyone knows, there is the Russian old model submarine, there is a lot of spirits for the apparatus cleansing. The officers used to drink it up all the time. I will only advise keeping away from the track of the Russian warships."
Pretu stood at the helm; he overheard the speech of the captain.
"Yes," he said. "All in the Soviet Union there are large-minded. I remember it happened once on my home island. One day we saw a group coming with their stuff. They began to build the railway. The railway on the island, people wondered. When the group worked a week, they then vanished with their stuff. The group with all the stuff had landed in the wrong place. The similar name of the place was confused them; the right place was situated in Siberia."
"As you can see, there is anything might happen," Orlov said and went below.
It seemed to me that the captain exaggerated his subject of the submarines, but after reconsidering the course of events, all felt truthful.
The clock was just at six in the afternoon. The grey of the day had turned to black. We drove on, further due south. Within an hour the coast of Sweden rose into sight.
Orlov came on the bridge.
"Bad news," Apo greeted him with a fresh weather report. Orlov walked through the wheelhouse.
"Well."
"A gale is coming. The northern, force 9."
"It's from Aft. It 's the company's wind then, as is a habit to say."
At eight o'clock in the evening, a wind got up; after an hour more, it was blowing with full strength. The waves came now from the aft; they lifted the aft body of the ship and the buzzed in the scuppers. The salty spatters hurtled from the aft to the foredeck. I noticed that Apo's expression was more tense than usual. He was in an off duty; however, he stayed there on the bridge.
The helmsman's correction for the course was several rotations of the wheel, to the left and the right.
"Hellish to drive so, the wind and waves there at aft; it's a hard job for the helmsman," Apo murmured, watching over the black sea. "Every time's the same; when you get into a tail-wind, it means hard work for the steering."
One doesn't need to be gullible to believe that there is something evil in the
darkness.
Although the technology had given people a good sight in the darkness with many technical accessories, they are unable to dispossess the evil away. Outside every light circle, the evil stays and lurks for an opportunity. Almost all the serious disasters at sea happen at night, in the darkness. On doesn't have to be superstitious to believe that there in the dark sea, there is something like a supernatural evil.
Before midnight the full gale was blowing. The wind howled and the sea rushed. The navigation's lights heeled over from side to side; the waves dashed the past hurried crests, alternately red and green.
Orlov examined the night around. I asked him when the gallop before the wind must end and turn the ship to the new direction.
"We can't do it. The braces could break off in the cargo hold; it could be the end-all of us." He went to the chart table. "We will drive now so the wind and waves are behind us. There we will get into a lee off the coast of East Germany. There we can try changing the course. Let's turn on the light, ship out of command!" he said to Apo. "The other vessels must keep away."
A ferry with her illumined row of windows was grossing in front of us, on her way to East Germany. We watched as she made in the heavy sea, her lights shone and sparkled on the slopes of the black waves.
Then there was a light of approached ship on the starboard quarter of the aft; there was seen the mast light of vessel. She was still far away but was approaching. The two-mast lights converged upon the dark sea. There was nothing else in sight on this side of the sea except this unknown vessel. We were well outside of the main road of shipping and this lonely rover seemed been lost.
The vessel grew rapidly closer; she was approaching us from the blind side of the starboard lantern. Orlov glanced in the direction of the vessel. After half an hour the mast lights of the unknown vessel were swinging high over the dark horizon. The distance was now about two miles. "The mate on the watch may be dropped below picking up a cup of coffee; soon the situation would be corrected. " Orlov said. But the ship's point was about a mile away; without any precaution, the ship probably would have a collision.
We were on the bridge, staring at the rising and falling bow of the unknown ship. It was as a huge axe, ready to fall.
"Find me the `Aldis´!" Orlov shouted to Apo.
Apo gave him the lamp. Five flashes ran over the dark water, then five more. Nothing happened. In the gleam of the lamp, we could see the name of the unknown ship. "She is Ladoka, Russian," said Apo.
"By VHF. Perhaps they are listening."
After the third call, there was an answer by the VHF radio.
Although the range was now so that a human voice would reach from the ship to another, the noise in the VHF radio was weak like a message sent behind the globe and had travelled thousand and thousand miles. The words came slowly through the receiver set.
Someone spoke slowly somewhere, brokenly in unrecognizable English, and all the time the object grew closer.
Just when it was quite sure that the collision would be inevitable, the huge axe began to draw away.
The VHF radio resuscitated again; there was a conversation between two ships.
"What, now they're to roar?" Orlov asked.
Pretu listened attentively for a moment at the helm.
"There had been some inexperienced third mate on the bridge; now the captain has
come up."
We arrived in at dawn and we did it in the real weather of the Lord, with a crew exhausted after all effort of the night. The lash held; nothing had gotten loose in the cargo hold.
On the following morning, I was accompanied by Orlov walking in the windy street Orlov to the office of the agent, where a young girl informed us that the Que Vadis would be offered for sale; all the crewmen of the ship will be paid off.
The uncertainty of the future bothered the crew and created a tight atmosphere
onboard.
I came across Ula in the doorway; he stopped by with an angry expression on his face. I heard he says over his shoulder to the mess room where the others were sitting: "Kurt! Damn! They will do the same for us as they had done to the Poles. They will send us home with the wages not pay." When he noticed me, his expression turn embarrassed and he turned away.
Captain Orlov was withdrawn in his captain's cabin; he did not participate in anything. The mate Apo cast hope to the Estonian mariners, which he had begun to call as Viro-boys. It was a nickname which was given to the Estonian volunteer corps, which had joined the Finn-Russo war fifty years ago. "Of course, we will get all our wages to pay. I am sure that will be all right." So he explained whenever the atmosphere in the mess room felt melancholy.
It was December and Christmas was coming. People were crowding in the slushy streets. On one afternoon Orlov received the wages for the crew; immediately he paid their salary. Ula got his welding generator, which he had talked so much about. He was dragging the heavy generator along the street all the way to ship.
I got booked a berth on the same ferry as the crew travelled to Helsinki. The Ro and Rol ferry were new and the departure was in the morning. The ferry was large and was riding high on the water; there was an extensive dining room onboard; the lights shone brightly all over the ferry. Our crew, with depressed mood, moved slowly in the bar and the dining room. There were not many passengers on board the Ferry; few middle-aged persons and a person with the manner of a clergy. In privacy I stood at the large window, watching down to the sea below, where a small tanker made her way with difficulty beating against the reverse wind. I could imagine how different it could be there. The deck on which I now stood felt firm and dry. Instead, down there aboard a small vessel, to be close to the waves, there is an entirely different world. You are lying in you bunk getting no sleep as the ship struggles her way through heavy weather. You can hear the moaning of the hull around as your ship slams and shakes. Then you felt in your bones that the ship has not straightened from the last roll. Then you begin to seek refuger, and all that is just work, conventional work at sea. Daily fatiguing duty in dim lights and the constant smell of diesel oil and human sweat. There are seamen, in their cramped cabins when wages were cut down and the living condition reduced on board
to barely human levels, they still stay there living in that old hope that even the worse storm blows itself out and there will be sun again in sight.
When we arrived in Helsinki, the white city of the north was covered with snow and there was the tight-lipped emigrant police waiting for the Viro- boys. They were afraid of getting the black stamp in their passports. "If we got the black stamp in our passports, we'll never get out of Estonia," said Preetu.
"Is the whole world going crazed?" Orlov exclaimed. "There not need any visa for the sailor. There is a Seaman-book."
The police were good enough to make arrangements for the case.
The shipowner came over, driving by his brilliant car and there in the passenger terminal he began to pay the lacking salaries. "We will not hire the revolution's men anymore," he said angrily and closed his bag. This exclamation sounded so naive that it made me burst into loud laughter.
The police looked with worry to the Estonian boys. "I will say that Today Mister Scevarnatce has left his official position as The Foreign Minister of the Soviet Union. We don't know what there is going on."