POSTED MISSING.

loaded 2,404 metric tons of aluminium in St. Petersburg, Russia in the period from 14

February to 17 February 1998. The ship sailed from St. Petersburg on 17 February 1998 at 1915

hrs, heading for Høyanger, Norway. There was ice in the innermost part of the Bay of Finland and

the ship had to wait for about two and a half days for icebreaker assistance. The ship arrived at

Copenhagen in the morning of 25 February 1998 after being slightly delayed in the Baltic Sea due

to bad weather. The captain was replaced in Copenhagen. The cargo and the excavator were

checked and found to be in order and bunker oil, fresh water and provisions were brought on board.

In the afternoon of 25 February 1998, the voyage to Høyanger continued. In the Skagerrak, the ship

encountered SW/W winds, varying between near gale and gale, and heavy sea, 5 to 6 m. The ship's

speed was reduced to 3 to 4 knots. The master called the shipping company in Finland both on 26

February and on 27 February 1998 without giving any information about problems related to the

seaworthiness of the ship. On 27 February 1998 at 2125 hrs the ship transmitted the distress alert

MAYDAY on VHF radio channel 16 from the position N 57-57.8 E 006-12.6. Farsund Radio

answered the ship immediately and after roughly 70 seconds the captain told them that: a) the ship

made water, b) its port bulwark and deck were submerged, c) it listed approx. 6 degrees (to port), d)

they were trying to pump, e) they needed immediate assistance, f) there were 7 people on . It

is assumed that the ship went down in the course of about 10 to 15 minutes, as no other vessel

observed any clear radar echo in the indicated casualty position. The first vessel reached the

indicated casualty position about one hour later, at which time there was only wreckage left. The

whole crew of seven lost their lives.

AN AVERAGE DAY.

BY HARRY TOBIN.

It was an evening on an average Monday of April in a small town on the west coast. The air was dull in the city. Mostly the dullness came on Monday night when the city's main streets, known as the upper streets, were deserted, except a few kids hanging around with their noisy mobiles.

There has been much grim news in this small town.

The first blow that hit the city was a notice; the shipyard would end its operation; after that warning, all work completed in the shipyard; plenty of unemployed men were now walking and bicycling along the lanes and streets.

A depression grew over the city, and more depression was coming on with the notification that the product of the auto cars for export- made everyone know that there will be a deduction of the process., and the shift workers of the assembly line may have their last wages on their hand within the following weeks, or so. The result was an angry city of fourteen thousand people.

The unemployment rate jumped up in the city, and the welfare office got many new customers to care for them.

There was a pub down by the canal. It was almost without customers that evening - just two drunkards with their shabby clothing were sitting at the bar. In the far corner of the room, at a single table, a man was, sitting with his coffee.

A man wearing a black leather jacket and dungarees entered the pub; he was around forty-five of his age with a pale complexion and a goatee.

The man stopped in the middle of the room and eyed around the; his eyes swept over the two drunkards, then fell over the man sitting at the table in the corner. He went over and, still standing, asked," Mind if I join"?

"Just sit down."

"You are drinking coffee."?

"Yes. I am by car."

"I see. You're not from here."

"I've been living here long ago, now just stopping for a while to see the old places."

The man in a black leather jacket dug his pocket and fished out two twenty pieces, showing the coppers in his open hand he said." Not enough for a big one", then added.

"Do you have some change,l I could have a beer"?

The man at the table bestowed three coppers over the counter. "This is enough for a beer?"

"Yes. Thanks," the leather jacket said and got up, then went up to the bar holding the money in his palm. The bartender had vanished due to a few folk in the pub, the man in the leather jacket tapped the desk, a woman appeared from the back of the bar.

" A long one to me," the man said. The woman bartender filled the glass by pumping three or four times the handle. The man took the beer and carried it to the table. No one had put the music playing, and there was easy to hear what another was saying. The man sat down in the beer before him and said: "Thanks for the beer," then held his hand over the table.

"Tim is the name."

" And I am Henry," another said.

Tim dug up a bag of tobacco from his pocket and started to roll a cigarette; he talked to the other at the same time:

"I am a seaman, some seaman, you know, for I haven't a chance to sign on any ship for the last two years. I have dumped on the beach, like a marooned pirate; I have signed on the dole for some money, not enough for a living but handout. The job is hard to come. The job has been hard to come. There is no job for a man like me. There does even not exists the labour exchange office for the sea folks anymore. They told me to write directly to the companies' office, to make some CV as they call the application. Well, I will not write anything anywhere. I have my discharge book, the seaman book, you know; it has been enough to certificate my ability to be a sailor." Tim shipped his beer then went on. "They want to avoid to say to you right away that you have been too long at sea, and there are young candidates to come, and they are much cheaper employers to sign on a ship. You tell me what will happen when things start wrong aboard a ship. I have seen the mate sitting on the bridge in his comfortable chair, watching the electronic chart and the ARP radar. Many of them are not even able to recognize lighthouses by names whom they are making over.

I am dam a buggier if I will write one of those hopeless CV for nothing."

"I know that all that you are talking about", Henry said. "I am a seaman too. Now I am making my living for sifting boats and smaller vessels from place to place, from port to port, transporting Tugs or something like that. There is just a trip or two."

"You might need a couple of able hands there",? Tim said.

"I'm at a doldrums myself; there is scarcely jobs enough for myself. But I may know some company which is short of men," Hendry took out his blue small notebook, wrote something on it and trip off the leaf, then passed it to Tim. "There is a phone number, call them and ask Harold, Harold is the Poss there. As I know, they are short of folk."

Tim took the paper. "I have heard about it. Thanks a lot. I will make a call in the morning".

The pub's front doos slammed, a red-haired woman appeared in the doorway, wasting no time she came over. "Where you got the beer?" she asked. Tim did not lift his eyes from the table, just nodded toward Henry.

"This friend paid. I have invited him to our home",

"You will invite every bugger you come across to our home".

"Shut up. The home is mine, and I will invite whom I ever want."

"I too live there", the woman snapped.

"Please, don't make abuse. I will not come". Henry said.

"Sorry about this but I hope you come. We will have a lot to talk" Tim sipped his glass empty and packed his tobaccos into the pocket, and said, "Shall we go, altogether?" They walked up to the parking lot. There was a car. Henry opened the doors, and Tim said. "Volkswagen, Golf"?"

"Yes, it's an old one".

Henry drove out from the parking lot then took along the lower street. He drove the car in the directions consulting by Tim:

"Take along up to the first crossroad and then to the left hand, "Along with this, then to the left", Henry repented.

" You repeat like the helmsman at a ship's wheel," Yes, it's the habit.

It was now snowing, and the sides of the road shone in white in the headlights of the car. The drive ended under a line of trees, and low-roofing apartments showed up on the right side of the road.

"Better stop this car here," Tim said. "There is no room for a car in front of the door."

The apartment was tiny, with two small rooms and a kitchen. While the woman was in the kitchen making coffee, Tim showed a place to Henry for the rest of the night. It was a small room, and its walls seemed to cover with oil painted pictures. Henry took a close look at the pictures describing rural people in their daily duty: Henry inspected the image one by one; and found them not so bad. They had delivered with care and by skilled hand and eyes. "Who is the author of these pictures? Henry asked.

The woman came into the room.

"It's me. the woman said."

Are you going to sell them?"

" No, they aren't good enough for marketing",

" They are", Henry said,

"You are the first one who likes my pictures, I want to become a good artist, but I feel I can't be good enough."

Tim came and said, "Come on. That pitiful stuff", There was silence for a moment, and then Hary said, "I like them."

When they were sitting at the table drinking their coffee, the woman said. "My name is Lisa. I am awful sorry for what I said in the pub",

"What's that"?

"I called you a buggier. It didn't mean anything",

"Never mind."

"Tim oppress me:" the woman went on. "He even threatened to drive me out, and I have no place to go".

"I'm from Karelia, and I am going to keep up a tradition that women must shut up in the church as the Bible says". Lisa bowed toward Henry and whispered,

"He's so cruel. But, he is wonderful in bed".

Henry said nothing; he felt being an outsider of this little family where he temporally had visited.

The following day before ten o'clock, Tim made a phone call to the number he had got from Henry, He could hear the dial sounding like three long toot, and the woman's voice said ": The Western charter company",

"Could I talk with Harold"?

After a while, there was a man's voice came on the line and said. "Harold"."

I have heard you are short of sailors, I'm with no job, and I'm making this call asking for a job." Harold listened and then asked." Have you been before afloat? What sort of certificates do you hold?"

" My second mate ticket has run out because of too little sea times within the last five-year, so I have my ab, still in my pocket. It will never run out as a rule says."

"I see. I see. Harold said. "So. You are ready to work as an a/b aboard a ship?" Sure I will".

"The vessel has ETA at Kalmar in Swede tomorrow afternoon, and I am waiting for the info. The captain hasn't given any request yet. Could you make a call to me around three o'clock afternoon? Then I will know more".

Tim promised to do so. After the phone call, he took a walk; he walked on foot those three kilometres leading the road up to town. He made right into Pub 'The Old Master', the second pub in the city, a meeting and polling place for the jobless seamen and the local chemical factory's sift workers.

A couple of men sat at the table near the front door; When they saw Tim entering, they saluted him, hailing their hello and cheered up for a passing moment for seeing someone coming in, hoping involuntary that the newcomer could have some news.

One of the men sitting at the table under the window was a senior man with a large bulk and blonde beard. He rested his back toward the window. His undressed jacket laid on the bench beside him. He was the painter - well-known in the town. He had worked with the same idea and the same subject, the four-masted barque, which haunted his mind and kept him paint it again and again.

He was called the 'artist' by the local people. People knew his talent, not only with his painting work and his pictures with his pallet knife but also his ability to speak.

He spoke as the best preacher, like an orator, yet one could say; there is sometimes much theatrical in his articulation.

The other fellow sitting opposite the table was a slim, weak-voiced man, former chief engineer, English styled hat on his head. He has been served onboard large tankers, and when on last of them, he had fallen into a fit of paralyzes and got retired. Now his dull and unmovable life is filled with these daily visits to that pub to meet the fellows' seamen and join a conversation than just for a drink, for he didn't drink more than one a beer.

The painter wasn't very profitable for the pub, for he used to drink only water from a tall glass.

Seeing Tim entering, the artist said.

"Who is that sophistical young man who is approaching our table?"

"Going to have a job, Tim said and joined the company.

"Where you are going to"? The engineer asked. "

"To Harold. I have to give a ring once more, and I think there will be no problem."

"Harold!" The chief engineer exclaimed. "He is Goodman, but not start to speak about the payment. He will get mad at once when you mention something like money".

"Lady Mistress!" The artist hailed out, calling the waiter. The female waiter came over, picked up the empty bottle on the table and asked.

"What's the problem here? Are you going to drinking something stronger than the water you have held all night?"

"Not at all, my lady. Not at all. However, I would like to ask you to be kind enough to bring a beer for this young officer who kindly will join our company. The bill of that service you could address to me", this saying the artist took out his purse and looking into it for a moment he very carefully picked out a bank-note of it, and passed it to the waiter," "You have got money"? The waiter said.

"Never fasten with the money. The time is money; how much you have time the much you have money, and let me say this: - time I got more than enough,"

It was half-past ten o'clock when Tim phoned again, using the phone in the pub, and yet the female voice in the line said;

" just a minute", and Harold came on the line.

"One man is paying off, and you could take his place. Will you come out here to our office to have your fare for travel to the ship. Let's say around one o'clock tomorrow. You can take a bus and travel to Rauma, then take a walk along the main street, towards the harbour, and when you come up a high block, you will see the number one on the corner of the block. Come in, and elevator yourself up to the fourth floor, where you can see the door of our office with a label on it, 'The Western Charter agent','. Did you get it? "Yes, all set, I am ready, just packing my things and then I will be underway at once."

Tim hung up the phone and returned to the table.

"I h; I got a job", he said to the company at the table, "I will boarding tomorrow. "Tim finished up his beer, stood up and with hoisting up his hand, he exclaimed, "I am leaving now. There could be a lot of water flowing into the canal before you can see me here again." "What ship that is"? The chief engineer asked. "First sound". Tim said.

"Some old rust, perhaps"?

"Will see."

The artist tossed up his both hands and sang out a part of an old sailor shanty: "Out to the world we are going on our endless road: good luck and Bon Voyage. "So long", Tim said and went off.

It was well past noon as the bus arrived at Raumo Tim took his walk along the main street, and after a short walk, he came up a whitewashed multi-storey block showing number one. By making an elevator upward on the fourth floor, he quickly found a door with the company's name: The office ' Western Charter Company'.

A man opened the door. The manager, Harold himself and with no more question, invited Tim to step in.

They went into the room, and Harold gestured Tim to sit in front of the writing desk and took out a paper and said: "Better make the contract here so not need to do it aboard the vessel. You can take a copy of this with you." A woman came into the room and said, " I have to arrange all the fares, and the ferry is going tonight at ten o'clock. You can have two hundred for the travel experience." The woman handled an envelope over, and less than half an hour, Tim was underway again, taking a bus and then the ferry. All the fares were paid and in order, including a cabin aboard the ferry where he spent no more than a couple of hours.

When arriving at Kalmar, it was morning. Pickin' up a taxi and driving towards the port where ending his drive aside a vessel. It was the vessel he was to sing on. He paid off the cab, and taking his gears, he embarked.

The vessel had a capacity of 3400 tonnes and an overall length of 46m. She had been built in Fredrikahawn in Denmark in 1973. She was one of that box-shaped aft-housed vessel that was not made as a sea-boat but just for carrying the general cargoes and whose ages couldn't be longer than ten years.

Upon embarking, Tim came across a man standing on the deck; the man was the able-seaman that Tim was to take over. The man led him down into the cabin, and as he laid his gears down, still holding his muster roll in his hand to carry to the master, he asked the man. "What kind of ship this is? And who's the skipper?"

The man shook his head. "The skipper's Leonard. The brother of Harold, as everyone knows. We call him little Harold. He is ok, but this vessel l... ooh ee, you will see. There are the deep tanks, some of em' badly leaking, and no one knows where the water comes in. It's is a working boat, you know. Indeed on this ship, you must work; you will come to know."

"What's the next port"?

"Bound for St Petersburg, I think. in Russia."

They went into the mess room where four men were sitting at present, drinking their ten's o'clock coffee. The atmosphere in the mess room was very typical for every coaster mess room. It was a warm room thick with cigarette's smoke, and as it was ten o'clock in the morning, there was the 'ten's coffee' time.

The oldest man in this mess room sat at the outer end of the oval-shaped table. Tim already knew that man. There had never been style or habit in a Finnish vessel to introduce each other among the ordinary sailors. The man was a well-known tug master who lost his towing business and lost his old tugboat. Dramatically, during assistant a cargo carrier which ended by sinking the tug. Now he was holding the post as the second mate on board this vessel. He wore his leather jacket as he always wore, and there wasn't anything to see like a seaman in his outfit.

With Cheer, the crowd saluted to Tim as he entered the mess room. There was one in the mess-room, a sailor named Carl who has disappeared from the company group of that daily idle sitting drinkers and talkers of the Pub Master, withdraw of Carl caused speculations until one could tell Carl having to get a job in some ship. Still, no one didn't know the name of that ship. Carl cheered an old buddy and wished him to welcome on board. As a home city fellow, Carl wanted to know how to go without him in his home city. "They try to come along without you, Tim said, taking his place at the table. "Where is the captain"? He then asked.

"Up there in his cabin, I think". Carl said.

"Want to give my papers. Tim climbed to the boat deck, tapping on a teak door and getting open it; he found a skinny middle-aged man that he took as Leonard, the captain. On 28th February, there was news in the papers; It told a cargo ship been sinking in bad weather off the coast Norwegian. The crew of the ship, eight men, all told, went with the ship except for two crew members whose bodies were found drifting wearing their survival suits. The same news told the ship been briefly made a call in Copenhagen in Denmark where the new captain has taken over. After that, the ship was reported to sail out of the Skagen and on 27th February, asking for help, the last words of the captain were heard; "We are seven men aboard", That after they were missing.

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