THE HOME AT SEA

HOME AT SEA

BY Harry Tobin

Copyright harry Tobin

I know, there still exist the heroes of the Horn and the Cap,

Did you ever know the shoveling men of the coal-burning ocean steamers?

The stockers, the firemen,

and the trimmers,

they were called with many names.

Down there below, in the stock hold,

on the bottom the ship, they toiled,

they were men who wore no an officer caps,

nor brass-buttoned jackets either.

They wore sweat - rag, singlets, and dungaree,

the buckles of the belts backside turned.

Shovelling and feeding the hungry furnaces.

The steam stand at the top, and the engineer on the top of the engine-room

with his brass-buttoned jacket,

"We are doing the knots! This old whore takes twenty-four tonnes of coal a day".

They were tramps, and they steamed up the ramps.

hearing their arses ahead turned on their seaway.

They hailed from nowhere, from the ports of nowhere,

From the hores and the spirit.

No, you not see em' anymore. nor can hear of em' anymore.

The noise and cursing below down there, in the stokehold are ceased.

You do not see a trimmer anymore with his wheelbarrow.

Shovelling their everlasting coal they have all gone, by the Cap of Good Hope

their arses ahead, agaista the wind they went, making their way

for India, and to the hell

PREFACE

This is a voice from the aft, this a true story of those last steam, and early motor ships, manned with the wandering souls of the seamen-that unique race of the men, which soon after an era of the steamships disappeared forever.

Chapter one

My name is Charles but call me Karl which is a common nickname of the galley boy on board a vessel of finish merchant navy.

The merchant service couldn't be called anything like a bourgeois occupation.

An average man never becomes a sailor, if he becomes sailor he then no longer is an average.

I am telling this story by my lingo. if it too difficult to get, let it be.

I rather regard myself like a Jack of all Trades on the high sea than a factory worker with the regular life of those shore people.

The trip began on a cold early morning of December. I was sixteen plus three months, it was the age when a man goes to sea.

I was travelling on a yellow autobus backed with early birds of factory workers on their way to the plant. When the bus finally stopped at the bus terminal in that small town on the west coast of Finland, I took my gears, and stepped out onto the street, facing the bitter northeast that swept through the empty streets, the wind moaned and made up hanged street lamps swinging and creaking, and there were quickly flashing lights, cutting across the snow-covered pavement.

I was leaving the bus, not for a plan, or to a factory shift; I was going out, to see the world.

There was a message in my pocket, it was sent to me the harbour master, MR.Larsson - short and clear it was,; come on, and join a ship, to go to sea, the seagoing ship,

With great difficulty, I have acquired all the documents need become a sailor. It wasn't an easy task at all, and all my leisure - which was pretty little I say, pretty little, and the jolly time in that small lifeless village

After all, a living soul would be eager to find something else, ripe to sign on a ship of any kind, of any size, just to see the world a bit.

So I was there in that early moment be facing the chilly morning, the street cold and hard under my soles, trying to find a ride to the outer harbour, still didn't find anything a means of transport - just a couple of long-nosed autobuses standing on the platform with their motors idly murmuring and with an empty windshield. The buses stood by the platform showing no a sing to their destination.

No more waiting, I said to myself, making up my mind to walk a bit, so I pulled down my fur cap and picking up my gears off I went, on foot for the harbour.

The morning was dull, cold and everything around with white snow, the wind blew down, and the flying snow made my fur hat covering it with a thin layer of snow.

I went on, pacing my way to the port,

The road ran alongside the river, then up to the bank. A locomotive went by, and when it was gone, I took the railroad track after the train, I was freezing and walked on, following the track. A grey painted wooden port office was seen on my right side, its blind windows looking down to the sea.

Having stumbled along the rough track about a kilometre or so, there was the red-brick customs house. Further, I went, then caught a glimpse of cranes. I could see them standing up with their arms towering over the grey iron roofs of the warehouses, beyond them, was easy make out a vague silhouette of a steamship, lying alongside the quay.

I was pondering the future of mine, there were questions in my mind. " What ship is this? The ship maybe all right, but what the crew itself would be like. I knew some sailors, but what a brute is waiting for me aboard that unknown ship?

Things may be different on board the ship: carrying an entirely new world I could not have imagined.

Having reached the outer end of the low-roofed warehouse, I ran into a bunch of tramps standing by the warehouse wall, bareheaded shabby men on a bitterly cold morning; their hands buried deep in their overcoat pockets, idly they stood as if waiting something to come.

When I made past them all heads turned to watch my go, the scene turned dark as a black dust of coal rose from the earth by a blast of wind, and for a while, there was a black swirl in the air. The fellas by the wall now turned their backs against the wind and pulled their bare heads further down, seeking shelter in their upturned collars.

I made my way and came into the illumined path of the ship's gangway light where I paused for breath. I saw the rust -streaked ship's side in front of me.

What a sight. Riding high up of water with her noble grey painted the hull, and I could see those regular lines of rivets running over her plates, just like seams of stitches. To me she was massive, and colossal sight, like a floating city, built from wood and steel, with lights and chimneys.

A few lamps could be seen burning above the deck line, giving a shimmer down and making shadows over the scene. I stood there on the quayside, surveying her and trembling with tension. I could hear a sighing sound, like a muffled whistle, coming trough the crooked horns of the ventilators, and there was a smell, too, a sharp smell of burning coal.

A black smokestack stood straight upward pointing toward the murky sky. I could see a white band around the smokestack, cutting it like in two, and there was a funnel mark, up there like a decorated scarlet vase.

I was stunned by the scene; by all those white painted rails, and davits, the lifeboats, all the multitudes of parts, and the alien atmosphere around the ship. The whole scene breathed out an adventure and romance of the sea.

Having studied for a while the romantic scene, black figure of a man woke me into reality, a man of reality and true wearing a long, mantel like an overcoat crossed the quay. The figure halted next to me, and after giving a quick glance down in my bag, the man greeted me by saying,

" Are you going to sign the ship article."

"Yes, I do" I replied.

" Blimey, what a hard time. Bad luck," the man said. " I'm also looking for a ship, but I've stuck on the shore. It's winter, you know. It's a bad time to the sailors. Could you spare some money for a cup of coffee."

Standing on the quay, in his poor rig, his hand outstretched for beg, this unfortunate fella was a living symbol of the uncertainty of the trade of the sailor-like a warning flag beside the ship. I dug into my pocket and brought out three coins left over from the bus-Fare.

Getting finished my surveying I started for the gangway by setting my foot on the first rung of the gangway, there was a spout of water swept across the step and I got my shoes soaked, the water came out from the ship's side, it was a condenser water and it showered out to the quay as a short arc of warm water splashing and steaming in the chilly air. With soaking shoes, I made my scrambling upward.

The gangway was hanging from a curved arm, extending from the upper deck, and it swung left and right as I climbed.

On the top stage of the gangway, I stopped for a while and saw a square opening in front of me. There was a banistered iron ladder, leading up to the upper deck. On looking up, I could see a part of the bow of a life-boat peeping over the break of the boat-deck. I also saw massive blogs and a tackle hanging above the life boats.

An iron door was wide open, it was open into a passageway. I went on, taking a long stride over the high threshold and entered the passageway that seemed to lead to the after deck. A weak glow from a couple of poor lamps illuminated that passageway, and there was seen a single row of doors looming out in the shadow, two of them were open, and a path of electric light from the first doorway cut across the dim passageway. When I peered through the lighted doorway, I found it being ship galley and felt a delicate smell of coffee in the air drifting out of the galley, and I sniffed cooked food and burned cooking oil in the air.

An old fellow in a dirty cook's suit was pumping water into a sink, he was doing it with very slow movements-the man, evidently was the sea cook in this Galley.

For a moment I stood in the illuminated doorway, waiting for the cook taken notice of my presence, but the cook I didn't pay any attention to me, the man in the Galley didn't even glance over the doorway. and when I tried to introduce myself saying:

"I'm the new galley boy."

"Speak to the Mate! "came the prompt reply from the cook, and he went on with his work with torpid motions.

Suddenly there was a sound: outside of the Galley, it was a rhythmical snapping of heels against the iron deck, and a woman entered the Galley. She was dark haired and tall; she gave a quick, nervous glance at me and down at my bag.

" Are you the new mess-room boy," she asked, then turned and left without waiting for my answer.

She was back soon, accompanied by a very tall man. The man wore an officer's cap towering so high that he had to bend down to avoid hit his head on the upper frame of the Gally door.

" Have you been at sea before?" the mate demanded. I was just about to reply and tell that I had been working in the dockyard and knew the vessels, but the mate turned his back, went away and was out of sight. I heard his footsteps echoing from the deck as he went on his way up to the upper- deck. "You will start tomorrow morning at seven o'clock," the woman said.

Picking up my bag from the stone floor of the galley, I was ready to go, but I didn't know where to go next when I felt a light touch of a hand on my shoulder. Turning to see I saw a boy, about my age, with grey eyes and round flat face.

" Hi, you're the new one, aren't you. " I nodded. He added: " You're coming on to my place?" I nodded.

"Get your bag along, and let's go," the boy said. He shoved open the opposite double door to the passageway, then started advancing with vital steps. I followed him. In a row, we went along the passageway- which way, I had no idea, it was poorly lit passage; there was a lamp on the ceiling and echoes of our footsteps rang between the steel walls. The boy opened another iron door and in one leap sprang over the threshold. We came out on deck on the starboard side of the ship, we kept going in a row around a corner, and then we were amidships of the fore part. Finally, the boy stopped before a teak door; it was fitted with a shiny brass knob. After pulling a brass key from his pocket, the boy unlocked the door.

When we were entering the cabin, The boy said: " Try to remember, keep this door locked and keep a good lookout. All kinds of people hang around on board here," he said.

There was a deck cabin behind the door, no bigger than a broom closet. The cabin was simple; just a bare bunk riveted on the bulkhead and a clapper board; the cupboard was fitted with a mobile patent so that, when opening the clapper, the washbasin turned out. When turned out the piped water flowed into the dish and when the slap was lifted up, the washbasin emptied itself, and it disappeared to be covered with the clapper board.

White daylight came into the small cabin through a single porthole, and a naked lamp hung from the ceiling, giving a faint glow. The air of the cabin was suffocating, and there was a smell of steam, a sort of vapour,

The boy lifted up his bag and laid it on the bed starting to pack his stuff there.

" It's your cabin now," he said. "Make your home here. I will hang around this day, but by evening, I will get paid off and vanish. Don't worry, I will show up to you all around. The woman, so-called, Rissa, she is the steward, and our boss, you know; you will be responsible for her. The big fellow you saw there " is the chief mate" so called Bloke, number one, and very tough man; more important than the sun itself. Watch the cook, that bloke is Jim"jams, try to member that the cook has the biggest knives on board."

he also told me that in the amidships lives the captain, the deck officers, the engineers, the cook, and Rissa; the rest of the crew were in the crew's quarters under the poop at the rear of the ship.

We moved out to the deck and stayed by the gunwale; there was a conical heap of slag and ash and all the time a monotonous sounding like, tap, tap, tap came from somewhere." It's the dynamo, the boy said. "It makes electric for the lamps aboard, and there. He pointed towards the open black doorway, in which smutty bars and pitch-dark bottomless abyss were seen beyond the bulkhead, was a vertical iron ladder leading down, down below.

" There down below, there is the stokehold, the black hole, the boiling room, it's the place for the bloody firemen, it's the place where goes the bad boys when they died. And the ladder there is called as the black Jacob's ladder."

From the black mouth of this pitch, dark abyss came up a sound as if a shovel was boosted along the iron plates, and I could feel the warmth fume coming up from the deep.

I listened attentively the boy telling about warming up the water with the steam, the service and the rules of the ship.

"When you ever come and go, between the pantry and this cabin, don't use the way through the galley. Try to avoid using that way, because the cook is getting mad. Try to find another way, like this."

The boy waved to me to follow him, and we went again in the alleyway, and then through the door onto the iron bridge which was guarded by an iron safety rails, the handrails shone. This narrow bridge ran over the top of the engine room, the warm air around us was thick with warm oily steam, down below, on the metal grating, I could see in the increased natural light coming from the sky window, numerous of the control valves, and an enormous amount of tubes of different thickness, circulating near the walls.

A platform, or upper stage on the top of the main engine, was seen iron bars, and three upper head of the huge cylinders of the tripel steam main engine carved out, From the level of the upper platform a narrow ladder ran deep down, all other things disappeared into the dusk of the engine room bottom. There, deep down below, on the bottom of the ship; I could hardly see vague shapes of human heads, moving to and forth, down there in the dusk of the engine room, like disembodied heads swinging in the air. Suddenly a thunder of outbursting steam was heard from down. The boy turned to me and smiled;

"The engineer has getting drink, now they blows the boires's classes, every time when they have got a snaps or two they do the same. No worry it's no dangerous, it's just a blow of the steam".

The officer's mess- room was a room in which all the officers of the ship gathered to eat and drink together, it was part of my working environment. Despite its glorious name the room seemed to be a modest room; furnished with a long narrow table and wooden benches on either side; you could find benches like that in every park, the table was fitted with sideboards, which could be quickly raised in bad weather. There was a narrow servant scullery behind the wall. All the water needed to do the dishes has to be carried in bucket from the hand pump in the corridor; then there was a steam pipe to be sinking into the bucket and when the valve was turned open, a jet of steam shot out into the water with sound of loud thunder by force that the water in budget turned in warm less than a minute.

The boy was as on pins and needles; he was keen to leave. " Of course, you'll manage all that", he exclaimed.

"There will be no problem at all. Everything will be all right. You just lay down the mugs and cups on the table and get the grub out from the galley; then you guarding them as they eat, ready to act if someone of them needs something. When the task all is over, and last of the eater had vanished his meal, you wash up the dishes, and so your work of the day is over. It's so easy. Well, there are also cleaning jobs to do, but Rissa will guide it to you."

He paused to get his hair combed with pomade, and, dressed up in his leather blouse, then anxiously started strolling between the outer rail and the cabin, he showed up his wristwatch.

"You also should have one like this, this is Atlantic; this sort of stuff you can have from Belton, in Poland."

He also took out his blue covered passport, checked it, and then put it into his outer breast pocket so that the upper part of the passport remained in sight.

"Shore people will know that I am a sailor. It will blow a good effect to the women."

I watched his fussing. "To a motor ship. The motor ship I want to. Motor She must be; I want to sign next," he said. " They are another kind of ship. Not like this coal tramp shipping. Then he smiles and said; Do you know how they call this ship?"

I shook my head.

"Vodka Johanson," he said.

Rissa appeared on deck with her skirt swinging. " Bot you, for the muster in the captain's salon, "!

The main salon on board was a part of the captain's department; in addition to the sophisticated atmosphere, there was an air of foreign origin, rare scents and the odour of cigars and precious wood. There was a lot of plush and lustrous brass as well, and real armchairs and maroon curtains. From this kind of environment comes the authority of the ship's master. We came in this sanctuary as two peasants come into a mansion. The table's glossy surface was covering with very official" looking papers. The muster roll was folded open, the coffee set was on the other end of the table, and I got an unwittingly thought that the coffee wasn't there for us. An old woman and a man sat on the sofa behind the table. Later I got to know that they were in attendance to be the agents of the National Board of Navigation. All of them showed up precisely such an essence of authority that could be find in their already taciturn being.

On the right side of this engagement party, a bit apart, in an armchair, sat the Master and commander of the ship, the man was a middle"aged and pale" faced man, whose face was full of lines and grooves. Saying no hello, he glanced at us as the master used to look at his subjects, standing there on the red carpet with their matted hair and holding their hats in their hands.

Behind the table, the old woman raised her silvered head and looked over her glasses at us.

"Who is the new one to be mustering aboard."

I stepped ahead. "It's me".

" So, you will sign on, as the mess room boy. Is that so? The woman glanced at the captain. "And this other fellow will be a signed out?"

"Yes."

Several seals were stamped on the papers, and several signatures were given on too many papers. I had to put my name down all to these papers, the occasion, which felt very solemn to me, was soon over. I got a small pay" book with my photo. When I outside the salon. On deck examined this book I saw there a stamp and place and time of the signing. All these notes were made by an old fashioned cursive and were evident that I was now a sailor, a small one, but a sailor nonetheless.

Later in the same evening when I was unloading my suitcase in the cabin I heard a hoarse blast of a foghorn coming from outside. I finished my task and went out to the deck to see what was that all.

Standing by the rail, I looked out. There was a tugboat with her slow black hull, it was a stubborn-looking small vessel; her bow curved backwards, and she puffed a black smoke from her funnel. The smoke rifled slowly over the icy water, and I could sniff a smell of burned coal in air, two motionless figures of men stood on the deck of the tug. Suddenly heavy drops of condensed water rained down on me; and overhead, from the top of the funnel the hot drops of the hissing steam were falling and the ship's fog horn begun a wild howl, making a reply to the tug's call. It was time to sail.

Chapter. 2

How long I had slept, I don't know , I awoke with the feeling that the ship was rolling, I could feel the small cabin rolling slowly from side to side and there were a vibration and the ship's hull trembled, the clapper board made a noise like a low, tat tat, too. I switched the light on and laid on the bunk fully clothed. Then I heard a noise; there, outside of the cabin, some object was dragging along the deck; I heard a crashing sound as a wave hit the hatch in the bulwark and something was shovelled overboard. Suddenly there was a growing of voices and a great tramping of feet rushing on the ladder leading up to the boat deck, a tumult sound into the cabin, it sounded as if some persons were gathering on deck, outside of my cabin.

I sat on my bunk and listened. What was this all about, then got up, unlocked the door and pushed it ajar, by peeping into the darkness I saw two human figures standing nearby the rail. A small lamp illuminated the scene; I couldn't see the sky, nor the sea, just a lustrous wet skin of iron bulwark was seen. Beyond the bulwark was the vast emptiness of the darkness, from where the sound of the waves and the moan of the wind could be heard. One of the men wore an old military blouse, and a woollen balaclava was pulled over his head. Another character, next to the first one, has nothing but a bunch of hair on his head, the man faced to the light; he seemed to be a lean, lightly dressed black man and was standing close to an ash-dumper attached to the bulwark.

The yellow wedge of light from the door cut across the darkness and it hit the two men standing by rail; white eyeballs flashed, and the white sweatband stood out like a stripe against the black skin of the man. I shut the door. I didn't know what the time was, and I lay down half-awake on the bunk. Later, how much later I have no knowledge. I was awakened by a loud banging on the door, and there was a voice crying outside: "Wake up! Wake up you! It's six o'clock! Wake up, you."

It was quarter past six when I staggered into the mess room where I found Rissa, she was sitting at the end of the table and a cup of coffee in front of her and smoking her Marlboro cigarette. She was a large woman with dark hair; heavy build, like a peasant woman with strong Tatar or jews face, there was a slight shadow on her upper lip as a fine moustache. When she spoke. deep alto could be heard in her tone. She could have been around thirty or less; the strong eyebrows and thick dark hair gave her a stern expression; by all accounts, she appeared to have a strong character. When she saw my entering, she glanced at me.

"Your cabin was locked".

"Who told you?"

"The watch told me that the door was locked", she said. I nodded.

"You don't keep the door locked at sea, the shore people locked their doors, but not a seaman on the open sea. If something happens, you will be locked in there and will go down with the ship. Try to remember it. Now you must bring the coffee up to the bridge."

Not until afterwards I learned that there were no locked doors aboard the ship when she is sailing at sea.

At half-past six, under the direction of the Rissa, I collected cups on the tray; the moody minded and faced cook chucked two buns on the tray and a full can of black coffee, then thrust it into my hand. Holding the tray in balance, I set out and started for the bridge, climbing the ladder that led up to it; the way was steep and slippery. Step by step made my way, and I rose; the higher I got the more the ship was rolling. Each step asked for hard labour and all the time the ship rolled and plunged while single-handed I struggled up. It was hard work, but finally, I managed to end up on the bridge and stood in front of the closed sliding door of the wheelhouse. The chief mate, wearing a long fur coat, plucked the door open. I held the tray out with straight hands unable to move.

"What the hell you are up? Can't you take it in all the way there?" At the same moment the ship swung, and I plunged into the wheel house, thrown by the impetuous inclination of the ship, and without reducing my speed I crossed the floor of the wheelhouse and in the same way was hurled into the navigation cabin. Then, under the ship's reverse movement, I could stop and laid the tray on the chart table. When I slowly returned across the wheelhouse, I had time to register the steering wheel on my left side, and behind it, was, standing on the flat platform, the same seaman I had seen the previous night, talking with the black man on deck. Later, I was come to know him as a Metros who bear his nickname; 'The Lobos de mar'.

With greedy eyes, I surveyed the environment around. The wheelhouse was panelled in teak, and there was a brass binnacle nearby the front window. On my right hand stood the well-polished telegram machine; behind the row of windows was an excellent view of the extensive sea. I went out to the wing of the bridge and stayed for a moment to have look.

It was a good stage to see, to take a view around; it gave almost unhampered panorama over the ship, and far out to the sea, I could see the forepart of the ship, it showed up clearly in the gray light of the sky, rolling slowly the masthead drawing a gentle arc against the sky.

The general colour of the sea was grey, so was the sky above. It was an impressive sight, this infinite expanse of the sea around. The ship made h constantly rolling movement from left to right and back again; the standing rig and all the fixed wires and ropes rose diagonally up and was fixed to the mast, under the black cross tree. Looking backwards, I could see how the stern rose and fell at even intervals, and the wake was visible with two white lines of foam behind the ship.

Through the cold grey sea, the ship proceeded, and there was the undulating wake behind it, was as straight as an arrow, we were heading before the wind; followed by the grey waves that lifted their manes in the same direction. The black smoke of burning coal was drifting with the wind and was lowering down in troughs. It was quiet; the greatest noise in this environment was the sound of the rising and falling waves and the hiss of the bow wave. Aloft, from the ring, I could hear a slow hum of breeze.

Getting complete my survey, I learned my duty; there was the daily cabin cleaning aboard. By following Rissa's instructions, I began to clean the first engineer's cabin.

The cabin was scantily furnished; there were justs a tiny writing table, a short sofa and a high bunk, insulated by curtains, and the wardrobe in the corner, the cabin was bare like a cage; there wasn't anything like a family portrait on view-no photographs of any kind, even not a calendar with the pictures of half-naked girls, which were so popular among the sex-starved seamen.

Faint booming was heard from the floor; I bend down to see, then opened the bottom drawer under the bed and found there a row of empty Vodka bottles rolling up and down with the cycle of ship's motion.

The door opened, and the first engineer entered the cabin. He was a stubby, powerfully built man, with a flat nose; the corner of his eye was thick like a boxer's, however, was smile on his moon-round face giving disarmed expression, the man was Polish, his name was Strong, and except for his native language he was not able to speak any other language, he has couple words of German and two or three words of English, just what the doctor ordered for his duty in the engine-room.

Lack of communication between the crew was not an obstacle, the ship's work is similar everywhere, in the oceangoing or local trade, there is not need to speak the ships at sea, in the engine room, he hasn't company with speak to, the stokers, shoveling the coal into greedy furnaces, were poor conversationalists, and if they weren't drunk, they were sick from their previous drinking bout and were very taciturn, very quiet, indeed

The engineer conjured up a bottle of vodka and poured right away full a glass of it then extended it toward me. I understood that he wished to toast for the newcomer. I swallowed down a mouthful of strong liquid, and then with pantomime gestures, I told him that there still is a lot of work to do and by lifting up my items from the floor, I ran away.

During the same morning, I came upon a man repairing the step of the officer's mess-room; he was an elderly man and evidently the ship's carpenter. Having seen me, he, very benevolently, made inquiries-whether I had been afloat before or if this ship was the first one. Each person I came across on board the ship was asking me the same thing. Perhaps there was something extraordinarily humble in my presence that appealed to pity, or my colossal ignorance, so that all aboard seemed created me with a similar attitude as the officers of the Catty Sark were created the Chinese orphan baby boy whom they found drifting in a small skiff in the Indian Ocean and whom they adopted on board the ship Catty Sark

Chapter 3

There was plenty of provision aboard, food of any kind and stuff like sausage and tinned fruit always in hands. Irrespective of the new environment I was totally surprised by the prevailing practice on board. I had lived in a tiny fishing village where their people spent every day of their working life with skimpy meals. There had always been very high veneration for the supplies; food was corn of the Gold, and it had to be using sparingly. I had sharp orders giving by Rissa to thrown all the remaining meal and food overboard, I was not used to doing things like that and as I protested, Rissa said, "Not worry. Our generation will not save anything, and the next one will have nothing to save." I obeyed, and an everyday lot of good flew over the side, meals, which could have been enough, supply with food for twenty more men.

For two days we steamed in the northern direction making our way through the greyish sea of Botnia. By the nex afternoon we would arrive at Wasa, the northern city of the Sea of Potnia, the ship had the cargo-carrying capacity of three thousand and four hundred tonnes, and we will have the timber cargo to Holland. One part of the cargo would be a loading on deck. She seemed to be aware of all what happens on board the ship. She went on, telling that Andrea, the second mate, and the Possum, both of them were keeping a beard because it was the fad in Sweden. The Cook is a drunkard and bungler, who should be fired at the next Port to call - And what about the black gang, all them nothing but similar. The firemen; stokers how they call them- in her view, those loggers were worthless ashore and quite risky aboard a ship.

The sailors, the deck gang, although they are not the best, Anyway, we can trust them," she said. I got to know the men she was speaking about by the next months.

It was all-new and exciting to me, later I learned that although Rissa wasn't afraid of anything but a big fish, she had a secret fear. She had an inexplicable fear- it was ship's steam boilers she was afraid of. Why she was so afraid of the boilers, there was no telling, she only knew; there was a connection between the fireman and those boilers. When the ship was at sea, she didn't worry much about the matter, because the engine room then was occupied by several people, but when the ship was in port secured at quay, and there was a lonely watchman on duty, then she kept on eyes the stoker who was watching overnight in the boiler room. When she got to know, that the firemen were drunk, she spends sleepless nights, and one could hear the tapping of her heels on the iron deck, and see her moving nervously forth and back between the officer's mess"room and her cabin.

By the afternoon of the next day, beyond the eastern horizon, a flat rocky coastline was seen with a conical shaped landmark, and soon there was the white streak of pack ice emerging out from the winter mist. The ship swung and there was a noisy rumble on the top of the engine room as the steering engine began it's grossly run from side to side; I wondered how violent those fist blow of the floes were as they hit the hull, making the whole ship shiver from bow to stern.

There now was increasing activity aboard; all hands were out on the deck, wearing their winter overalls; stained with dirt and grease, hurrying along the alleyways, past the galley, forwards, and aft. I could hear the shouting of the seamen, and the loud words of orders following by a crude swearing.

The ship had struck into the backed ice. And after some miles more the proceed became more difficult, she laboured hard and was making her noisy way through the ice mass, and there were thumps of ice floes against the hull and clanging of the hooked kettles in the galley as they drummed against the wall.

It was late when the clattering and trembling ceased and the ship was berthing, and the gangway lowered down on the guy.

Chapter 4

Getting finished the dishes, Rissas brought a bottle of Wolf Head-Gordon Gin from ship's slap.

" It's the portion of crew members," she answered my astonished look.

In the evening I saw a group of sailors going ashore; they were drunk and as they made down along the wobbly gangway; there was a great hubbub and then and now they staggered against the guardrail. It was the New Year's, Eve.

Rissa told me to bring lot of mixed juice into the officer mess-room, and by eight o'clock most of the amidships people were gathered in the mess-room, drinking their jolly Bolls liquor and speaking the Swedish language together they talk and the topic and theme in the mess room wasn't anything but the habitual ship's talk. There were argues of the events of the days and their voices surfed and waves in that small room. The Polish engineer sat among them with his flat face red and his large round head sweating; he didn't understand a word of spoken language, he drank a lot and kept his smile on; with his natural Slav soul he enjoyed sitting amid a large company and had a drink with them.

The night wore on, and when the clock showed eleven at night, the air in the mess-room was turned pretty thick with the cigarette smoke and vapour; the door was set wide open to the alleyway. The high the voices in the mess-room rose the lower the dignity reduced in the room. A quarrel had raised between the Chief mate, and the boy faced Chief engineer. The subject of those discusses was from the day's events aboard the ship. Mr Mang, the chief mate, was claiming that the engine room couldn't deliver up good steam enough for the full speed run. " There is not enough steam available to get the deck's derricks run,"The chief mate bawled ou.

The chief engineer sat in silence for a moment. Although the air in the room was warm, he had peak cap on his head, and his face was red under it.

" It's not so easy task to get the steam up to the top and keep it on top, too when there's possible wait for a random order to stop the main engine. The steam would run away, or the boiler blows up, anyway, blowing the steam...up to the sky. And what it will cost for the company! Whenever we blow up the steam in the air, it's like waste the money, I hope it will be worth the money. The steam costs money, you know."

Then they were talking and yelling all at once, waving their arms, voices surging back and forth. The topic was from the ship and the crew in her.

"I'm pretty sure that we will need fresh firemen, " the second joined to the conversation.

Rissa didn't participate in this everlasting waving row, between the crew of the deck and the engine-room. Instead, instead, she wanted to know, what was the name of the last ship of the new cook, who was sitting on the outer end of the bench. Olli was the name of this blond haired sea - cook; he was a slim, pale young man, wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a black overcoat. He had come in the evening aboard. and because it was New Year's Eve, he naturally got drunk, right away. He still wore his overcoat, and he sat among the amidship's people, speaking with his thin drunken tone, more by himself than to people around him, he was eager to let everybody know, that he was the oceans wander, an old stager.

" I have been out here for a long time-all over the world, from China to Peru," he said. "Not come to tell anything about the grub; the grub is my job. If I see a bunny running, I always think how good meal I could make of it. Yeah, Jytte Pauling, says I, was the name of the last canoe I was serviced on; say, we were up in the north, on the Archangel route, from the arctic winter to the tropic. It was a shadow line, really, I Say it was."

-

I made an acquaintance of a deck boy who was called, Junky. He had the night watch on deck and he hung around near the gangway entrance. His night watch began from the evening and lasted until seven in the morning. " The hell with them. They're all the same," he said, gesturing towards the officer's mess-room. "They are slandering the sea folk of the poop deck, but don't you see they are just fucking the same. Take looks that Pole is a skill to keep him drunk all the time, but he can do it so that no one can see."

I looked over the rail, down the quay. In spite of the night, there were people there, walking alone on the illuminated quayside and hanging around there and here; they were walking in pairs and in groups. I saw a black figure of a man at the foot of an immobile crane, a black, lonely shape of a man leant against the foot of the crane. There was something strange in this motionless, dumb of a figure, standing there in the darkness, and because the man stood at a distance of about a hundred and fifty metres or so, it was difficult to make out in which direction the man was watching.

"It's the fucking Phantom. Lurking for girls" Junky said. " Girls?," I wondered.

"Yes, the whores," he repeated, giving a quick glance at his wrist. - "Usually, they are not here down before the small hours. If they come at all, The man there below is the vice squad, a bastard who will spend his cold night out there like a watchdog. - It will be a cold night to spend out there."

What sort of loyalty made this knight stand there on a cold winter night watching women illicit boarding. What was it the use? Standing alone in cold night it could not be the only sake of duty of that sort; no, there must be something else in the mind of this argue-eyed dog.

The noise of a dispute came to our ears from the officer's mess. Then there was shouting! " Come on! Com on out the deck! You, You bloody come!"

We went to see, what that was all about.

The Chief mate was standing in the alleyway, his arms waving. In front of him, a bit apart stood the Pole, still the benevolent expression on his round face, his face was littered with perspiring, there was a fighting in progress.

With light movement the pole hit the face of the chief mate, it was an easy jerk, there was no resistance nor will fight anymore, the chief mate lets his hand fall and turned his back and went back to the mess-room, the whole performance was over less than in five minutes.

It was snowing. The night was bitter cold; it seemed as if the light of the lamps made the snow shine with yellow on the wharf.

A man with an unshaven gaunt face and bare head, wearing a snappy gabardine, was climbing upward the gangway. Junky took his guard the embarking stranger, blocking the way.

" What brings you here?" I heard him inquiring.

"I am looking for a friend of mine", was the reply.

"What's the name your friend?"

" Legion Kananen is the name of the stoker I am seeking after. I am also a fireman you know. Now no job-it's winter, you know. The winter is theirs, the summer is ours, the man said, nodding his head toward the bridge.

" No man like that aboard here ",

" Should be", the man demanded.

" No one aboard like that."

"Let me aboard for a while, to get some drink and warmed my feet."

" No way," Junky said.

Junky held his mind and the man turned around and went ashore. I bent to look down over the rail and saw this freeze-dried Lazarus crossing the quay and disappeared behind a storage hut on the quay.

For a moment I had the feeling of being advantaged, the familiar shipboard behind me with its warm interiors and all that food made me feel cosy and I felt belonged to the ship's company.

At midnight on that particular night, when the old year turned into the New Year, there were blasts of sirens and the horns the ships around and wild hailing of the men making the New Year welcome.

The last cabin, on the port side of amidships, was the abode of Mr Henrikson, the third mate.

Mr Henrikson was a large bony old man, with a gaunt face, already past his best years and there was a screwball stare in his watery grey eyes. He seemed spent his time in his cabin, for, very seldom I found him sitting in the mess-room amid the other people. Mr Henrikson was native of Aland, a Finnish Swede by descent, from an island in the Gulf of Finland, famous for those great days of the deep sea sailing vessels. Now his cabin's door was wide open and seeing my passing, he gestured me to step in. I entered. The mate was sitting at his small table, and after he had beckoned to me to sit down, he filled a glass with whisky and with an impetuous motion, waved the glass toward me. He didn't say very much, just sat and made some noise; for a while, he grunted as though he was trying to remember something. Suddenly he hit his forehead with his palm and as if he just now remembered his name and address, and he loudly exclaimed, " I am Riley Henrikson from Marjanham. Alan Finland!" He uttered something else with his eyes glittering. He seemed to fall into his confused memories so deep that he totally has forgotten my presence; then he burst into a fit of an awful coughing. I stood up went out, leaving him coughing in his cabin, and far out could hear how this ancient sailing ships' mariner was coughing alone in his small cabin.

On my way to the deck, I came across Rissa.

"Captain not like this noise," she said, " there are now some visitors in the aft. Not go there, they are bad girls ", this saying she wished me good night and a better new year and disappeared into her cabin.

The bad girls, who were them, what Rissa meant by that? I wanted to know. I went to Aft when limped up to poop deck; I saw a bundle of a figure of a girl, squat down, aside the resource wheel, seeing me, the girl arose, hoisted her pants and slipped down by the company way, I followed her, down below to the aisle, there was loud music playing and clamour carried up from below. and there were open doors of cabins around the aisle.

A tall, slim man wearing in American style jeans came out one of the cabins; I saw female face peeping behind and there was a black haired little fellow, another a blond haired man came out of a cabin and a bottle of Vicky was passed toward me.

" Take a dram, Karl, take a dram or two,"

And I took one, then second. The music was playing all the time,

"Who is this boy", older women asked. "

"He's Karl, the galley boy", the blond haired man said.

" I want to come with you", the woman said.

"Karl lives on midship, the blond man said.

"I want to midship". the woman said.

The music played and someone sings.

The next day was Sunday, as the Sonday was the holiday there was still aboard. the cook was sick and so were the other,

By ten o'clock Rissa asked me. "Do you have a girl in your cabin",

I nodded.

Rissa went to see, and when returned she said, "That girl could be more beautiful if she has washed underwear.".

When I came in the cabin the girl whose name was Ulla was laying in the bunk, seeing me she said. "Oh, Karl, you were angry last night. You hit the bulkhead by you fist and I was so afraid of you."

'

Chapter 5

I had been accustomed to a hard outdoor life and hard work suit to my circulation, so one could say that I was hard like an Indian of the Rocky Mountains, I felt that I could be a little bit too crude and awkward for the work like the mess-servant; still I did my work as well as I could, for I never had a habit to refrain from any kind of work.

One morning Rissa send for me. I found her sitting at a tiny writing table and after I got seated, she turned to look at me and said.

" You Charles are a strong young man, and I can see you been accustomed to doing a hard work, so I told to the captain that you will shift to deck; that's better for you. You could have more payment, and soon you will be an ordinary seaman. can take a wheel and act like the lookout on the bridge, you can learn the basic routine of a sailor. I said to the captain that this boy will be a good sailor, and so we agreed that you could receive the vacancy as a deck boy, even today you can shift your gear over aft. The official muster of the change will be later. Now, get moving."

I thanked her for all that she had done and had spoken on behalf of me to the captain and has satisfied with my performance. I took my gears and shifted to the aft, under the poop deck, down by the companionway, to the port side of the ship, into the small cabin which was to be my home for the nex year.

The cabin was small and in addition of the two bunks, there also were two naked portholes facing out of the slanting bulkhead. The lower bunk was full of sooty bedclothes, but the upper one seemed to be empty; I settled on it.

When I was made my home in that small cabin there was no one making me welcome; all the occupants of the rear ship were busy on the deck or in the engine room.

The living compartment was a division into two parts; on the port side of the ship lived the firemen, the donkey man, and the trimmer. On the starboard side of the ship were the cabins of the deck crew, able seamen, ordinary seamen, two decks-boys, the carpenter and the boatswain, these cabins of the sailors were comfortable, and there were adornments with coloured lamps and goblins on the walls.

There is a saying: of the firemen's' sole gears when joining a ship, they had a pack of cards and a sweat rag, and this was not far from the truth.

The port side's cabins; belonging to the firemen, were scanty holes and bare by the interiors. There were just some smutty overalls and the sweatbands, hanging on the wall. Their bedding was smutty and the fireman usually lay fully dressed on their bunks, most of them were nothing but tramps and so poor that they did not possess more than one pair of trousers, a single jacket, and a pair of shoe with slant heels. Their work at sea in the stokehold was hard and their drinking was harder, there is a saying, that the stokers were going around the world with their arse ahead; it was a quite apropos dictum, for the fireman in his work literally, and in practice spent their watch at sea working in the boiler room like the rowing slaves of Roman callers, their backs turned toward the direction the ship was hearing, seeing nothing but the black bulkhead around, and the burning furnace before their eyes.

I know, there are many honourable talk and tales about the Cape Horner, and there is somewhere an annual meeting where those old sea scouts gathered together dressed in their blue jackets with brass buttons, to recall those heroic days of the Cape Horn, and drinking for their hero's achievement. They all have been sailors on deck.

I was come to know the black gang that worked in the stokehold of the coal-burning vessel, working as fireman in the stock hold on the tropical latitudes, when there is no wind enough to blow the smoke away from the head of the funnel, and when the temperature on the deck is showing steady more than 40 degrees Celsius in shadow, and when the only nourishment that could keep inside the stomach, is the cruel, and there is not hope for fresh air.

Despite all of that there is no one on shore who takes notice of these kinds of heroes, because of the common social view, there are no heroes there in the stokehold, just the tramps.

By the end of the day of my mustering, I settled down into my new abode, with a surprise I found a pitch-black fellow lying on the lower bunk. I said hello and sat down on the wooden bench under the porthole. With a side glance, I examined the lad lying on the bunk, and very soon got to know; there was a white man under the black layer of coal, and the man was one of them I had seen standing outside my amidships-cabin on the first night at sea. I knew that the shipmate was the trimmer, a member of the black gang, and my roommate.

The crew was not divided only into the black gang and the deck sailors. The deck crewmen were divided into able seaman, ordinary seaman and the greenhorns as well. A deck boy on his first voyage is not required to know anything about the practical work of the vessel, but an able-seaman must know all his duties aboard well and to perform the job as a professional seaman.

When I was serving on the amidships as the galley boy I could have easily got work as a day man; After been moving under the poop deck to be as a deck boy, all quickly changed. if I could have been regarded like an orphan with pity at amidship, after joining the deck crew I was no more as the adopted orphan of Catty Cark; I was now treated as Sven Toove, the imbecile draftee in the Swede-Finnish poet by Runeberg.

When an order sent me to the forecastle, I went aft; the terms the seamen used sounded odd to me, although I had a great desire to perform all the tasks, I was so confused by this strange lingo that I had to guess all the time; what they meant by all that.

I was everybody's slave, but I was young and strong and along the days I ran, doing all dirty jobs aboard, even sometimes I was sent for helping the trimmer down in the stokehold, I tirelessly ran over the hatchways, up and down by ladders, trying to follow all those strange orders the Bosum and the able seamen were given me on time.

Every harbour morning half past seven the night watchman routed us from our bunk in ship's fashion, then brought the cafe breakfast from the galley into the deck house on the poop. And a couple minutes before eight o'clock the third mate turned us out. He did it in a very strange way, which seemed very odd to me. He was literally throwing himself into the mess - room storming in like a madman, yelling out his command:

"Turn to. All men out to the deck! The work must start now! Out, Right away!"

Cruelly cursing the mate rushed out to deck, and back again into the mess-room. He did all that rushing like in panic, finally relaxed, sat down at the end of the table and grunted there in a choked voice while we get ready to stand up and out.

Chapter 6

The chief mate on merchant's vessels has always been called as the first one, or number one, or the Bloke, which represents the first-ranking officer on board. The form of this nickname is modified from the hierarchy of ships. A ship need not be classified in A 1, which means the very best ship in the Loyd's Register of shipping, but the chief officer will always be a number one on board any ship, the mariner with a great ability and readability.

The chief mate on board Johansson was a man with his large bulk and a noble psychical outlook that would have been suitable for some Atlantic liner, but not on board a coal-burning seagoing steamer.

The crew members on board the ships were traditionally labelled by their occupation, as the Second mate, the Donkeyman, the AB, the trimmer, the carpenter, the Bosun. Lowest in this category has always been the deck boy. A greenhorn on his first trip abroad is the object of the mischief; sometimes it will be a very crude joke.

The chief part of the deck crew of the Johansson hailed from the west coast of Finland. Many of them from the northern isles of Finnish Potnia, but there were also men from the southern part of this Finnish coastal region, which was referred as the Holy Land. This name has nothing to do with the well-known name of the Holy Land on the southern shore of the Mediterranean; this coast situated far more north, above the sixty degrees of the north latitude.

There is telling in the history that this land has not always been called as the Holy Land. In the past, this coastal region was known as the Bad Land. For centuries, this isolated coast was wide avoided by the seafarer for its reputation of being difficult to reach and of the mysterious missing men and crafts; there was a passage near the mainland, which the early merchantmen were forced to use in bad weather. Many ships were missed in this region; not a trace of these ships or their crew was seen anymore. But gossip of pirates went to Stockholm and reached the ear of the bishop. Halfway through 1100 Bishop Henry made a Crusade to this barbarian coast, killing all the male found in this barbarous region, at the end of that Crusades, he erected, for the victory of the Christianity, a wooden chapel on the hill, and to be sure that the result of his Crusade could bear fruit he assures it by leaving a chaplain in this village where all the full-grown men were killed.

In a single person's cabin in the middle of the transept corridor lived an able seaman named Nygard. He was a gloomy mind, tall, fat-faced young man, and native of the Holy Land. In spite of the fact that he was a descendant of the Christian priest who was the ancestor of all the people of that community, he had a great deal of suspicion for any stranger; the xenophobia was deep-rooted in memory of his home district, so deep that one priest's lifeblood in their veins was unable to root out that xenophobia that has lived for centuries among

One evening I was sitting in my cabin on the bench under the two portholes. The door was open as usual and I head Junky and Nygard playing music and drinking their Bolls liqueur in the opposite cabin. Suddenly I saw Nygard in the doorway of my cabin. He stood in the doorway for a while, holding the door posts fast with both hands, and stared at me with watery eyes. His mouth was twisted in a grimace and he started for me; then taking the two steps, which were between us, he seized me by my throat. You dam a fan' you bloke. I will show you that you are nobody!. he grunted against my face. I was not worried; it was very easy for me to break away from the script of this simple-minded islander.

We spent the next two weeks in this same loading port. Every morning at seven o'clock the loading gangs came aboard. There were few women among them. The ship's winches were operated by the very noise winchmen and with the warning cry as they lifted the load from the quay and then lowered it down into cargo holds where the numerous hands of longshoremen reserved it and piled the planks in good order from side to side. Soon the there were piled yellow planks and in the aft hold, the shaft tunnel was covered by yellow wood

On the starboard side in the crew quarter was a cabin which belonged to an able seaman named Attila, he was the oldest able seaman on board he was a short-haired man, like jailbirds. He wore always his grey coat and broad belt, the knife was hanging back side of him, he bore it much by the same way as the sailors did during the sails at sea, the a/b was not strongly built, but one could see him being vigorous and hard like a leather nail. He footed around with his ankle boots and a Tartar cap was on his head. No one seemed known-or heeded-where he originated.

I was working on deck with a red haired ordinary seaman named Penacook. We were on duty erecting the poles by the gunwale for supporting the deck cargo.

We laboured to set up the heavy poles with great difficulty when Attila hurried past on his way to the amidships. Peacock gave glance after him then spat over the side and said, " Don't he look out like a birth from the Stalin's camp."

It was Wednesday and the afternoon coffee time at three o'clock, as a man in a grey suit with a briefcase appeared aboard. He made straight into the sailor's mess room. Already from a distance, he shouted out his questions.

" Halloo there, I am Pena Perkiö. Is there someone who has not yet paid his due to the union? Are all of your membership cards in good order?"

"Who is this man? I asked the able seaman who was called The Hero of Seven Seas."

" The Union man," the Seven Seas said.

The Union man came and sat at the mess room's table and took out his briefcase, a stamp and a small coffer, the seamen crushed down into their cabins to be back soon with a small blue membership card in one hand and money in other.

"There is a rumour," announced the union man. "It tells our fellow sailors aboard the icebreakers would start the strike for better payment for our union's members. The government has threatened to replace the merchant seamen with the navy men. If so, then we will not follow the icebreakers manned with navy men. Since they are not professional seamen, and they have nothing to do with the merchant navy business. There will be risks of many sorts if we will follow the icebreakers manned by the navy men. So when the order comes to put the ship out, do not touch the mooring wires. All other work aboard is free, but the vessels will stay in port so long as this conflict is solved. Who will support the strike on board the icebreakers?"

All hands went up.

" Well, nice to see that we will stand together."

The union man stamped the cards and the whole crew gathered around him, and there was heard some veiled inquiry; whether one could borrow money for pay the due for union- to be payback in the next port.

On seeing Attila, the union man raised his eyes. " Aha. Is there no less than the red metros himself? You still belong to our union, although you well know the rule; no politic on board a vessel."

" As yo see, I'm still here."

Be careful. Not any agitation on board, Shut you mount, and keep it closed. We don't want to give the opponent reason to call us the commie."

"This one here is a new candidate for membership to our yacht club. "the Bosum said, pointing toward me.

" Good", said union man, and took now out a small blue book, keeping on his speaking at the same time as he filled the page of the person register, questioning me.

"There is word circulating," the union man said. " Our fellow sailors on board the icebreakers could start the strike for the better payment -What's You name. Charles? - What else.? -Are you born on the moon or on the earth? The government has threaded to be replacing the merchant seamen by navy men. If so, then we will not be willing follow the icebreakers manned by the naval navy. So when the order came put the ship out to sea do not touch to the mooring wires.-Put you mark or signature," he stretched the paper and pen toward me, keeping on his announcement. " All work on board is allowed, but the vessels will stay in port so long as need this conflict to be solved. And you." - he added the words now to me. " I tell you. If you think you could touch the mooring rope during the strike, I can assure that it will be your last deed on board any ship. Who will support the strike on board the icebreakers? - Well, is nice to see that we will stand together, and there is not any rat aboard."

All the sea folk; sailor and the stokers were moved from mess room to the poop deck. The union man had packed his items into his briefcase and stood a while on the poop deck close by the ship's second wheel.

" If there will be a risk get a boot, keep in mind this. If any oppression take place aboard, or any crew member becomes kicked and fired. I tell you, the gangway will be just as long for the captain as it's for the smallest deck boy aboard. I mean by that we have power enough to put on the gangway anyone, the master as well as the deck boy. Amen.

After the visit of the union man, there was great agreeing among the seaman on board the ship.

On the next day, the Bosum said me, after breakfast: "You Charles, go with Attila and help fix ready the lifeboat on the boas-deck. "

I went up to the boat deck and joined Attila who was uncovered the starboard side lifeboat. The uncovered boat exposed the inside of the boat. There was seat running around the boat and across the boat, as well.

The boat was cluttered with junk.

Attila climbed into the boat, "Look nasty. Bloody mess there," he said. - It's the chief mate's business takes care of the life boats. If things start goes wrong on aboard the ship - By God, here will be narrow escape then, he also said.- This is criminal's carelessness; you know the company is just thinking thinks like their freights, the business, profit, and the demurrage, everything else, but the life of some poor seaman. things never change."

We started to fix the boat, making her shape for the sea, the sea clearing as they called it by the ship's usage. We took out gears like the sail from the boat, piled that on the deck. Many interesting things appeared which use I had no idea. The second mate Andrei, came and taking a look over the brink into the boat, said, by his odd usage, " It's leaking. You are going. Plung, Plung, if you lower her down."

We talked and tried the slits with tow and tallow. -Is this your first ship, Attila asked when he was straightened his back and had lit a cigarette.

I nodded. "-Yes".

" Way you came."

I wanted to be a seaman. See the world and the different port in the every corner of the world. I said.

-And the whore in the every port to call and all that cheap drinks, he remarked.

"Many of my friends had to get to the sea when they had reached the age require to sing on a seagoing ship," I said.

"I know there are plenty of young chaps at sea," Attila said, "At sea, really," and threw his half smoked a cigarette over the side, then stood up. "Was told," he went on. "That the man goes to sea when they not fit living on land. They come here when they are young before they come know the unhappiness of life at sea. They had entered into doomed life, doomed wandering and drinking forever, the only friend being another seafarer, the familiar company and the common style of sea life. There is many so called first trips man, who has given up after the first trip. They are more or less saved. However the most part is back to the sea, continue their rolling, over and over, they return to sea as the habitual offender return into prison. The ship is the goal for seamen, they haven any other home, and they sing on the vessel of all sort. Until they died for alcohol or they go down with their iron cell to the Jones locker."

" But here you eat regular, and the food is good, and there are the cheap export, duty-free goods as well. Every time I have seen a sailor on land, they showed plenty money and all that thinks which landsmen do not have," I said.

"Yes. They have money, Yes, for a short period. Attila commented " But just for a short period. Here, seafarer has an advantage over a shore wage-earner in that he is practically forced to save a substantial part of his earning-simply because, there is not an opportunity to spend money at sea, nine months of the years. Whilst the landsman decides to stop at the local bar for a few beers or dance with the girlfriend, meanwhile the seaman in the middle of the ocean inexpensive play card and smokes their duty-free American cigarettes, talking with his shipmates."

Saying this Attila ended the discussion and ordered me to put back into the boat the gear we had unloaded from the boat. The repair of the lifeboat was over.

Chapter 7

One night I had an unexpected experience. I had a strange feeling that somebody was watching me. when I opened my eyes I saw a man's head beside my upper bunk. The head wore a navy cap and the face beneath the caps was intoxicated dull and there was the name of a warship to be seen on the band of the cap - H M S HALENFRALD, it read.

The eyes under the H M S HALENFRAL stared at me, " I m the horrible killer. It I'm," the head grunted.

The man stood there swaying slightly staring at me, a tall man with rat shaped head that was no chin and had a prominent Edam apple that jumped up and down, and I saw a military clap- knife in his hand. The trimmer who had before occupied the under bunk has gone ashore, I was alone with this lunatic. The man set up his fist with the knife, by instinctive I dived down from the bunk and out of the cabin I hear the loud laugh of the madman behind me as I fled. and when stopped for awhile at the companionway to be looking backwards, I saw the man in his naval uniform striking the knife through the door, he had to get rage and now disgorged his rage to the door by beaten the door in a sieve. I heard him howling like a beaten dog.

Then there was something else, it was the tone of Attila and I hear him saying.

" What's up man?" Are you going to bet somebody there? You sod think you can hang around here, breaking the doors with your knife? You bastards, I'll teach you to fly at people, and by the kick in the belly of the lunatic, he flattened the trouble maker at once. I saw how he took the knife from the man's hand.

I went up to deck then to the mid-ship

I found Junky in his night watch post; he was sitting in the Galley accompanied by a blond haired slim stranger who had an open earnest expression on his face and soft voice.

I greeted them by saying that I have met a horrible killer in the aft. -Some sort of homicidal.

" He is the new fireman boarding late evening with me. We were embarking together," the man said, " He got mad, I didn't know why he got a mad just few glass of vodka.

" What's about the uniform."?

The blond man grinned.

" it's stolen stuff from the limey warship. We have steamed her to a shipyard to be converted into a passenger ship. He worked hard for nick all he could find, he took out many sorts of things there, like the cap of the chief engineer".

Rissa came with her vigorous heel naps on deck. - Who is on the cauldron watch down below. She inquired.

-It's me, the blond stoker said.

- Rissa examined the man for a moment. - Are you all right? - Sure, I am, ok.

" Where's the beast that had been sneaked all over here with his dirty hands.?

The blond gestured toward aft. "There I guess. In the aft, I think. He is free of duty, you see. "

"Please do not let the lunatic go down into the engine room."

Next morning I was sitting in the sailor's mess-room among the other seaman when the Donkey man slid into mess-room and the nocturnal brawler put his head in the doorway, yelling after the donkey man " How you run you blood dickhead, you rat, You want to be the yes-man. Come on! What the matter with you. Didn't ye get your score sack filled yet? You fucking toady. I'll bet yer with the score sack at your head!

" Take away your bloody face from the doorway." Donkeyman snapped feeling save among the men in the mess-room.

After the meal, the chief engineer came down in the after quarter and found the stoker standing necked in the passageway.

"You are fired the chief said."

" I need money. I need the payment for seven days because your will break the contract."

"You must go out from here. You have brawled here all the night, smashed the door and put in disorder the places here. You have pissed up your job even you get to start it, you are guilty yourself to cancel the contract."

" Don't try to send me away with the wages no paid." the fireman cried. " I'll raise a hell if you try to send away no money. I have the union behind me."

"Get dressed, the chief said, "Get dressed and I try to find some payment to you, to get rid of you." this saying the chief turned and went on deck.

"Ok go makes your accounting, I'll get to dress, the fireman hailed after the chief.

An hour later, I found him crying half dressed in the corridor. " I got the boot", he moaned. " They kicked me out, Ou, that fucking bastard kicked me out."

Chapter 8

There were three deck boys on board. I was one of them. The Junky was the second, and the third was a blond young fellow called by his nickname; Seed.

I was learned to know that the sea folk was very different sort of people by their customs, also in the way they were attired. The ordinary and able seamen wore dungaree and off duty khaki shirt. They had a fine watches, and they smoked tax fee American cigarettes, and there was talk about business, which they called export, by that same usage which they called clothes as the gears. The export wasn't anything but the tax-free what could be bought from the ship's clap., most of the officers and the seamen carried out a private trade, which they ventured smuggling that was allowed partly by the master and was so called an official advantage. Among the many habits of seamen, and one of those was a nickname, for almost everyone on board the vessel. During long period together in the small floating world at sea and in the harbors seamen have plenty of time to examine each other, and by the habit of the sea, they had renamed almost everyone on board the ship according to the individual manner, like landsman or speaking like no seaman or, an old salt to be called as the hero of seven sea. There were many sorts of nicknames there.

When last of the longshoremen were marched ashore and they have got they cargo bottles to drink for completed the loading and the deck cargo had been properly flashed, the ship didn't call the pilot yet. for there was still the strike, controlled by the seaman union.

One day the Bosum had a news "The strike now finished and the icebreakers are put all out".

It took not long after that as the stand-by was whistled to the fore and aft, and the pilot dressed in long gabardine came aboard with his briefcase hanging from his neck.

The wire ropes were loosened and the ship was taken out from the quay by the assistance of the very smoking harbour tug. When there was no more the quayside to support her, the vessel took a list to port side under the weight of the high deck cargo.

The first watch started and it lasted from eight to midnight I was the Hero of Seven Seas who was as the watch mate of mine.

It was winter night and I was watching as the ship was heading along the track in the ice field and there was seen the light of a big icebreaker,

"The icebreaker is going so slow, maybe we could overtake her," I said to the Bosum standing on the poop.

" Oh, what the hell you thinks boy. We are moving like lice in tar, the icebreaker could make easily ten knots in the fast ice".

We went out to sea by night, the icy passage ahead being illuminated with the so-called 'suns which were nothing more as a couple of plates with four electric lamps burning in the centre of them, and with the assist of the icebreaker.

When the sea was free of ice the watches were set, I was standing on the wing of the bridge, watching ahead as an outlook man seeing nothing but the dark night ahead of the ship. For the firs time, I felt the coldness of the wind of the winter sea.

To deliver the meals from the Galley was the duty of the deck boys. The food was loaded in some sort of container pots, there were four an aluminum kits, full of food, this all was set on an aluminum brace, carrying this container by my left hand , my right hand was occupied with a steel stray, so loaded I started to aft, stumbling over the deck cargo, along the slippery top of tilted deck cargo and there were the wind and the movements of the ship..

As the ship had taken tilt to port side even in the dock, under her deck cargo, the list increased during the voyage, so that after a week at sea the there was difficulty to got to aft carrying the food, both hands occupied with the cans.

One vet and grey morning a red buoy with the fog bell tolling emerged from the mist. I was watching at about it when the Chip; the carpenter came over and said.

" It's the post buoy, the mail buoy, you know. If you have some letter to be sent, you must let the skipper know, he can stop the vessel for a while.

I was not sure if he was pulling a leg or not.

The ship was approaching the North Sea chanal when I was turned in off watch, I was after an hour turned to again. There was the anchorage and the forecastle head was occupied with the stand-by part of the chief mate.

I and the Junky climbed up the forecastle just to hear the chief mate saying to the Bosum, -Tell the boys to go down to the chain locker.

-The boys into the chain locker! the Bosum yelled.

We went under the forecastle there was access down below to the fore peak and the chain lockers lowered ourselves through a small hatch down below into the chain locker. The port side anchor was out and there was half a chain left in the port side locker, the chain was rusted and thick of man's thigh and there was dried mud on the bottom of the locker.

"Stand by there below!" a voice cried through the chine pipe and the windlass started its rattle on the forecastle head heaving the chain up and lowering it down into the locker. We took the hooks and pulled the chain from side to side in the locker, trimming and coiling it all along, the chain turned thirty with the mud from the seabed and we soon were covered with the dry bad smelling mud. The chain was heavy and we sweat more heavily until the command came through the chain pipe. "The Boys there down, did you hear? Get off from the locker!"

There was no one showing any sympathy for our outlooks, among the men standing on the forecastle head as we rose from the locker and joined the part on the forecastle head. With the pilot aboard were heard toward the first lock of the floodgate. I was astonished the change of the climate, as the winter and the ice had hampered us in many differed ways no mere than two weeks ago, there was now a green land in sight and the air was mild and I could feel a trace of the spring there and I could see people going by bicycles and walking along the road on the riverside and there were huts and houses with low roofed and I saw green reed on those roofs. There were many oncoming large ships showing up their strange flags, and some rusted hulk like a vessel.

Then there was the river Elbe and its estuary with the incoming and outgoing traffic. Between the low banks and the two estuaries of the two rivers, in the offing, near the shipping routes, half-sunken wrecks were looming out from the mist. and there were green light buoys indicating they places and the waves around them like lead. I was watching this gloomy environment and this large colourless seascape around emanated raw moisture of the muddling river and the raising sea. The tidal stream was running out and large, pale, flat and empty coastal region with the muddy beach was seen to northward and south, I saw flat beach to continue as far as eyes could reach and the pale foreground and in the distance green undulated shore.

Chapter 9

I was off and was lying on my back in the upper bunk, listening to the to the noise of the steering gear from the poop deck above my head. The ship was pitching, the stern tossing up and down with noise of the turn of the propeller under, I could feel the increasing vibration as the stern was falling and each time when it dove there was huge bang as the flat countered stern hit the water. It sounded like we were running into a gale. I dropped down on the floor and went up on the deck. The sea looked Grey, and the air was mild, and there was mist upon the water, a large tanker loomed out, and the waves had white caps as they hurried past. The wind was howling. I saw the Bosun and the Chip, rigging up the extra tackle for the rudder to be easy the press of the increasing waves. They wore their wet oilskins, and there was water everywhere.

An hour more and the logline showed right down, and as the Chip tried to haul it up there was a sharp jerk on the line, it was evident that the line was jammed in the propeller. By evening, the gale was blowing harder, and the wind cried with surf of water. The wind and lying splashing bet my eyes as I carried the pots from galley to the poop house.

The first night the ship ran dry, but in the next night a huge wave was breaking down the companion, and there was ankle deep water

The water turned dirty, surfing on the floor and the radiators heated the dirty water up forming a bat smelling vapour into the interior air, it was a terrible smell, and if you have the slightest tendency to seasick you have come very right place to be suffering it.

Been finished the dish I had a bucket full of dirty water. I stood by the outer door of the poop house waiting the right moment when the tern started her rising and the deck clear of breaking waves.

The new trimmer was a tramp called Cure, he was doing his job aboard, and he was coming from the stoker's mess room carrying his dirty water bucket with him, on seeing me lurking before the iron door, he asked Daren't you go out to the deck? What are you waiting for? He put his head close the porthole and looked out to the poop deck trough the porthole and sighted. " Oh, the hell. What a sight.

The ship had lots, even more, her transverse stability and was taken a deep port side list and no returned upright anymore. Every time as the stern fell and divided into the water there was a thump, I could find solid green water behind the portholes of my cabin.

The sea was mountainous, and there was white spray as snowfall above the huge waves and on the surface of those waves were seen white veins as if on the skin of some living monster. And monster they were, they rolled in the night and lighted the sea and the ship whit an eerie light as they hit the ship, there was nothing to be seen or hear but the white flashing and the noise of the crying wind and the tumble of water.

During one of deep heeling to provide the chip said;" Now she goes", but she returned up and the rumble continued.

" You think the lashes hold, Rissa asked me as I was stumbled into the galley.

"They didn't tell me, I said.

The seamen were turned less talkative, and the stoker toiled for their life.

"We must blow the tubes, Donkey man said at the supper, every one of us knew what it means, the steam will reduce in the boilers and the ship will be drift with the wind and the waves. I sound not good, and the ship's company knew that there would be the collapse of the deck cargo.

At night, there was seen the weird phosphorus shine of the water illuminating the roaring sea around the ship.

The lashing held and when the third morning dawned the sun came out, and there were moderating wind and seas.

Chapter 10

The door of the chief mate's cabin stood ajar, and a chink of light cut out of it crossing the darkened boat deck. There were peace and relief aboard after the stormy voyage and ship were berthed alongside the quay. A queue of men was standing and waiting on the boat deck

near the door of the chief made cabins. Someone went in, and some joined the queue. The agent has brought money aboard, and the chief mate doled out the advance.

When I stepped in, the chief mate lifted his head and said. " Oho-You boy mustn't go ashore so late the in the light. Someone must look after you, or you will lose you money for the whores, it's no good for your young age and your small salary. How mush you have asked. Twenty golden. You haven't so much but, I will give it as an advance, this saying, the chief mate pointed me the list on the table. Put you name down there" he said and took two bank notes from the table and gave that funny money to me.

There was cheerful ambience in the after quarter, the doors of the cabins were wide open and the men were running from cabin to cabin and the steam room on the poop deck was heated hot like a sauna for the bath.

Chapter 11

The music played, and many cabin's flasks were uncorked, and everybody had something to say or hailing. "Are you going to ashore to Texel bar?"

" Just a couple of beer. There must be something else near in hand."

Chapter 12

I was walking along the dimly lighted street accompanied by Kurre, the new trimmer. I wasn't drunk, but there was something wrong with my legs and my head too, for I couldn't make straight and steady.

"Am I sick? I cannot walk right, and all goes round in my head, I said to the trimmer.

"No, You Jus have the sea legs, Nothing serious. You will be all right tomorrow."

"Are you sure,"

"Yes. I am. It will happen to everyone after the first storm.

We walked on the moist pavements of narrows streets, the lamps glimmered through the chill gloomy streets. We had entered that quarter of the town where there were some mysterious illuminated windows.

There were windows, and girls and women were sitting in those

windows like some dummy placed in the shop windows of the ladies clothing. " Just for a shor time, short time", said Kurre.

We entered a bar. It was nearly empty we ordered an unmarried woman at a table pointing us to join.

We sat with the lady and ordered a drink, which the trimmer paid "Costly drink, you see, they will milk us at once. We will not stay here any longer, Shift the place," Trimmer said and wiped up his class then stood up. " Let's go. I rose too, and went out of the bar and crossed the street and came into another bar next to the first.

" You ought to drink the Gin and lime with it; it's cheap and strong enough". Trimmer said.

When we entered I saw Seven Seas and t Penacook sitting at a table, I saw the Cook dancing with a girl that had a large hat. Penacook came over and asked to have a drink; He was drunk, and he did not notice the drink he carried in his hand.He stared at me and took hold of my jacket. " I want to fight, he said. I sat down, and he tried to pull me up. " I don't want fight.i said trying to sit down again. " No, you must, Penacook argued. " Let's go out to fight.

"No trouble here. No Boxing said the woman at the table. " Shut up you spotty faced, Penacook said to the woman.

He wanted me out, I rose and moved towards the door then turned and hit him twice at face right away before the door. He fell sideways on the floor; there were plenty of hailing and tumult, but I couldn't help but see the amazement expression on his face as he fell.

"Take it, easy boys, the Trimmer scouted.

Penacook stood up on his feet and holding a hand over his eye, was escorted by a blond haired girl, back to the table.

"The guy was tougher than I guess, I could hear him saying.. " No more boxing said the women.

" It was your fault got beaten", the able seaman Seven Seas said, and there was no more trouble after that, and it was forgotten.

Chapter 13

The next morning at the breakfast table in the deck house. Attila glanced at the bloated face of the Penacook and said. "You mustn't judge a man's fighting ability by his appearance. Did you learn something of that? Never does it again."

"I' m not any street brawler. That's the point; Penacook said and after that, he said no a word during the breakfast.

I had my right hand's knuckles sore, and I tried covering it from the eyes keeping it behind the edge of the table.

A week shot by and there was rare aboard who still had the money go ashore, I was delighted by getting informed that I will have cigarettes and six bottles London Gin from the steward's store and all that by credit. The bottles I got were labelled with of wolf head and to men, they looked very smuggling

We sailed in good weather and even there was little of welling out there in the North Sea, there wasn't so much wind, the skies and the sea were dark. The watches were set and I was standing at the outlook duty on the port wing of the bridge, I could see the harsh outline of the foredeck beyond the down lowered booms and could hear as the bow wave flashed with the white surf traversing past the ship's side. The outlook is a unique task.

Standing by itself in the night, looking forward seeing anything but the darkness ahead and feeling the wind howling in your ears. After six o'clock, there is too dark to see the hand of the wrist watch, and you are waiting the very moment to come when the mate opened the sliding door of the wheelhouse to be allowing you to smoke a cigaret down below on deck.

I do not know where it was, it must have been in the vicinity of the estuary of the Elbe River, the frosty fog had blanked the sea around; the sea was calm and the water smooth and black around the ship. I was on the forecastle head tolling the fog bell and doing my time as anchor watch, past the midnight listening to the footsteps of tJunky on deck as he was coming to take over, when there was another noise to be heard, coming out from the fog, it sounded like a rush of a bow wave of an unseen vessel, and less than a minute a huge ship bows appeared and by instinctively I registered those rusted streaks, running down of her grey painted hull.

I started to run backwards and was hump into Junky that stood there on the deck his mouth open watching as a ghostly ship's side was travelling past. It struck somewhere on the forepart, and there was a great deal sound like shaking and crashing, I caught a glimpse of a man standing by her rail, and could see the name with white letters on her bow as the black and lofty side of vessel travelled past. Lopez und, it read, evidently she was a Dutch ship.

There was hailing in the fog and then the sound of roaring as the anchor of the unseen vessel was falling into the water, the captain rushed out of his cabin, and I heard a voice saying, " Damn, why don't hit on amidships, and sunk this hulk. That will mean a long time in dry dock.

The chief mate came out and accompanied by the Bosun to be inspected the damage. The hit was on the port side of the bow, and there was ragged hole above the waterline.

We were ordered to a try"dock in the Stockholm, that info came via the galley as all knowledge comes to the ears of the crew.

" To Stockholm said the donkey man, "it's good, very good for business.

Riding high of water we managed to get to Stockholm without assistance. It was a dark evening of a winter day when we saw an illumined patch in the sky, it was the reflex of the lights of the big city, and in the next morning, we shifted the ship into drydock.

Been settled down on the bottom of the try"dock the repair carried out, the routine aboard continued with not variations.

The repairs took two weeks in the dry dock that made a noise like a machine gun, a, ta, it sounded night and day.

One day Rissa gestured me come over, she was standing on the deck near the galley.

"Would you give a hand to the donkey man tonight?"

For what I asked?

"Will sees then.

"Yes why not, I said.

" I will let you know when the when there will be the time. Rissa said and continued her way toward the saloon.

Nex night came I was helping the donkey man carrying large boxes from the engine room to shore loading the sacks on a lorry standing by the landing stage. There were lighter sacks and more heavy box, all them for lucrative smuggling.

I was doing seven months sea time on her, and at the end of the next August, I leave her.

The out payment wasn't very much, but it was enough for a bed for two weeks in the sailor home in Turku, in Finland

Chapter 14

A man was lolling in the park near the quayside. He was an elderly beached sailor and was called by his nickname Frisco. He was a drunkard and totally ruined by alcohol; he told been on the west coast of American and been sailing out of America bound for the Far East. A young man mustn't waste his time here; he said to me, Go to the West, and sign aboard the other ship like Yankee ship, get certain payment and "backs turn

I dropped in the office of the seamen employment, which the sailors called as Verna's mill, Verna was a black haired woman who kept the 'mill' and was sharing the jobs in this office. Every day there was taken place the regular occasions of info by shouting out that black haired Verna, reading from the shipping list of the open vacancies. By ten o'clock, there always were gangs of men to listen to the names of those ships, which were shouted out and which were short-handed and were needed sailors of any short, and indeed, sailors of any sort there were on offer. The room was crowded with fellows, cursing swearing and shouting during the few minutes as the woman was reading the shipping list. The names of the ships were weighed among the men present, and there was an injury in the air; whether the ship in question was a heavy canoe with on her deck work, or whether there was allowing the smuggling business or not.

"That's bloody wreck; poor fellow yelled out. " Oh no, I know that canoe, Cannas, old one. Of course, she is short of hands. It's the last chance when you have anything else. No venture of any kind, no business aboard, you can have just the four flasks a month, no more. She belonging to the company of the owner skippers, last herring, and potato, they call them, Nothing to eat and plenty to do. No good, No thank you.

The situation didn't leave very much to elect, and the next day when there was again the same empty play in progress, the woman standing in the middle the room with the list in her hand and when she uttered out a ship name that required a deck boy, I stepped ahead.

"I will take it, I declared.

"All your paper in good condition?" I nodded.

"Come to my office when this is over".

I went to the office the woman gave me an address of an agent. " Go to the union office to make sure you' ve paid your due, they there will give you the green card for sign"

"I have paid up for six months; I already have the green card," I said.

"Well the ship Triton is loading her cargo in Hamina, You must take a bus and travel by it to East You come then in Hamina, there you can seek up the agent in that address I gave you. The agent then can help you find the ship.

Early morning I set off, travelling all day I by evening arrived in Hamina. That was a small town with its circle streets. The office of the agent was easy to find for there weren't many offices there, a sign on a door opposite the bus"station indicated the door belonging to the office of; Ships' Macular Rogers &Co.

Upon entering this two room's office, I found a female, tapping a typewriter behind an old fashioned Bureau and as she saw me coming in, she stopped her work and gave a hard look at me.

Se was staring at me as though she was to going to say,-what brought your here boy? Whatever it is, you have entered now wrong place, but as you're already standing there, "What I can do for you?"

" I am looking for the agent to get to the ship named Triton." The woman still stared at me asked." Are you a seaman".

"Yes. I m, the deck boy, have been ordered here."

"The agent is not at present. Please take a sit and wait; the agent will be here any minute."

I sat down; it was more than quarter an hour as the door opened and a stout middle"aged ma, dressed in Grey suit, entered the office. On seeing me sitting his eyebrow rose a bit, he asked " And this man. A styyrman', I supposed."

"I am the deck boy sent to the ship named Triton I said. Ah, I see, the deck boy to the ship Triton, the man said and sat behind the other bureau in the room. The agent took out some paper. I was watching a large oil painting hanging on the opposite wall, there was a steamer in this picture, laboring her way through a very roughly sea, the ship was smoking a lot and seem to make not headway at all, and the wind was tearing and driving her smoke long away, toward the hazy horizon.

"Well, I supposed you have all the documents whatever you need, so You can travel to ship right away, The ship is loading in a small inlet off the coast no more than ten kilometres from here Klamella is than a place, there is a sawmill, and you will find the ship there.

I took a taxi and gave the address to the driver, and the car got underway.

The evening was getting dark as we reached the wooden water edge of that inlet; there was scarcely light still I could see the wooden building of the sawmill and the long wooden wharf with all those barges tied alongside the wharf.

Out in this inlet was lying a ship, the anchor light was seen hoisted at the fore stake, and the after deck and the amidships was lighted.

I asked the drive try to which off and on the headlights to be signally over the water and to making them know on board the ship my arrival.

After awhile the driver said he has to go, he started his motor and disappeared. I was hungry, and I had the last cigarette in hand, the night was growing cold though the air was still and the water smooth.

I sat down on a wood stack and prepared for a long wait. After half an hour, a rowing boat was seen, coming from the ship. I saw the boat emerging from the dimness of the inlet and heard the oars slapping.

" Oh, I shouted, and a single birth rose somewhere on its wings and set off flapping lazily over the water edge.

The boat grew nearer, and I could see a boy pulling it. When the bows of boat touched the wharf I leapt down into the boat; the boat was small like a dory, and the boy turned it around with a slight movement.

"You are the watchman, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes I am, and the boatman as well, when we are riding.

" Where bound."

" For London.

" Oh.

" What about the ship, have you made long on her? I asked.

" Just a trip. The ship is all right, the chief mate. You will get to see then."

He pulled the boat toward the ship anchored in the inlet. A shadowy shape of the vessel showed up again the evening sky. Its silhouette was black and lofty.

The gangway was lowered down near to the water, I climbed and found nobody on deck, but a solitary lamp was burning on the break of the boat deck. The ship was quiet, amidships and no poop. There was not a soul in the mess room; I made aft, and down by the company way.

At the foot of the company way I jump into a man who was standing in the passage and was speaking through the doorway into a cabin, the other party of this discussion was unseen and might be lying on his bunk in the cabin.

I asked to get known the birth belonging to the new deck boy. The man in the doorway stopped his talking and gave a glance at me over his shoulder." For a moment, he looked at me, then raising his left hand and said, " Over there.

Over there was a two"bunked cabin in which had already an occupant, actively build and red-bearded an able body seaman. I took the upper bunk that was provided with a reading lamp and single red curtain, and underneath the bunks, near the floor, there were tow drawers. The table was fixed onto bulkhead, and there were two wardrobes.

I settled on the upper bunk; no one seemed taken much notice to my embarked. There were men moving in and out of this Kennel, between the cabins they went and came, saying a word or two on other, but still there wasn't very talk activity.

However the sea is everywhere the same, the ships are similar, the work is similar everywhere aboard the ships, still the shipping company remains leery about an outsider as the shore people, even the newcomer who could be sailor but not well-known sailor, the rank must be at leas as height as the Bosun, the Carpenter or an old able seaman like an old stage, to be accept right away into a ship's company, all other newcomers will be regard as greenhorns.

I woke early the next morning and got out for my buck and me when looked at my wrist it showed quart to six. The able seaman

Was sleeping behind the red bunk curtain; I got careful dressed trying making, not a noise I went on deck. The shipboard was quiet except an occasional clink from the deck and some rope lapping against a mast.

It was still dark, and there was a light breeze.

I registered increasing of activities on the shore side; I knew that the longshoremen were soon coming with their barges.

I found the lower, the night watch coming out of the galley, he was carrying a bucket full of ash, " I am late, he said as he hurried past me towards the starboard rail, where he halted for a moment, putting his hand out he was feeling which way the wind was blowing, then emptied the bucked over the side into the sea, there was a light cloud of white ash that went with the wind.

"Jevalare Satan, the boy swearing in his Swede. " I am late; he said as he hurried back to the galley." Dam, the cook, gets mad.

I was sitting by myself in the empty mess room when a strange individual appeared in the doorway, a short old man with a fur hat on his head. The man wore a sheep shepherd clothes; he has a vest made of sheep's wool, and he had galosh on his feet. The man lifted his other foot on the threshold of the door and was resting his body on the up hoisted knee, and he had a dog face and was looking at me whit his small watery eyes.

"Jaa, hah, ha. the man began. "And you. Who damn be you?

I told being the new deck boy the ship was asked to have.

Ah, ha.

Chapter 15

When you are not more than eighteen, then all human beings more than thirty years old looks pretty old for you and you will call them as old chaps, who are nothing but worn by the years, so they looked to me. Mr Lind as well the Chief mate of the Triton, yet not so old as the second mate, the sheepskin who I met in the doorway of the messroom

in the morning.

The chief mate was dry a lean man with very earnest expression, he had watery grey eyes, and there was colourless fishlike fixed stare in it, and I ever saw any hint of a smile playing on those faces. This mate was aged, but how aged; it was difficult to say to sure because the age of an old salt is dark. This man could have been well over fifty fives or even sixty, but there was the expression on his face, and in the upright body of this old man, that made him ageless. The mate wore weather worn peak cap and black duffel coat, which all in black gave him very nautical outlook.

The chief mate glanced at my seaman's book and said, " you have serviced as mess"room boy, aren't yours. So, get the deck cleared, this saying he turned his back and started toward the boat"deck.

I was deeply hurt to be called as a mess"room boy for I have served six months as a deck boy on my previous ship and I was not

anymore as a greenhorn.

I was sore and felt like an outsider during the first week on board the ship at anchor where the loading took place. I was eager to show that I can perform the job on deck, and can know the difference between

the windlass and the winch at the foot of the masts, and what were the halyards and the guy. All that a didn't help me to make a friend to the other hands on board the ship.

Chapter 16

The mess"room was in the amidships and there was not need to

carry the meals to aft.

Sven was a deck boy, islanders, the son of a farmer, dark and introvert and he was the same who pulled me with the boat to ship and who had his turn to be a night watchman, so he was sleeping in the daytime to be wakeful in the night. One of the two ordinary seamen was a tall, fat young man and he liked a drink and talked where it ever was possible. He boasted to be a fighter and ready to take a match with anyone. He

was called as Moneyman for, when sober, he had custom sit at the small table in his cabin and spent his off time by counting the multitude changes he has collected from every country he has been visited. I soon realised that despite want to a be bit of fighter he seemed afraid quite much the chief mate, who whenever this fighter pissed up-kicked him up like a dog and in way, very cruel and ruthless.

My roommate, or rather a cabin mate, the red-bearded able seaman wanted to be the second mate, and he said that he will sign next

autumn on the nautical college and to be earning a certificate.

Every morning the ship lying at the port, or at anchor, the regular working time began half past seven and the second mate turned to

the hands. The old mate was called as sheepish and was very rudely treated by the chief mate, and was taken by the hands as a

sheepish.

This old timer wearing his sheepskin and galoshes appeared every morning in good time before half past seven, walking to and

fro past the mess room's door was waiting for the men in the mess room got finished their breakfast.

" What's the matter with the Sheepish. Why in hell his is so

restless? I asked of the moneyman.

" Don you know? Well, I can tell you, the Sheepish is

strengthening himself to turn us. Just wait a moment and

he will be at the doorway, and as he was saying this, the old mate

appeared in the doorway.

"To the Morning boys," the friend said with an awkward tone, and grunted "Fine morning, aren't it. Hopefully, we get underway before

midnight. Yah ha, is the time to work. Then the mate looked at me and said: This new lad looked out strong enough to carry the coile of tarpaulins what was let out of the hatches cover, to under the forecastle head.

sea shape by flashing the deck cargo with heavy chains and secured

it with wires.

We were lowering the booms of the derricks as the peak capped head of the chief mate peeped over the edge of the windbreaker of

the bridge and voice cried out: " Hallo below there on deck! Do it properly. There is sea running out there."

" Bloody ss fascist, can't he trust us, the red beard muttered as he was hauling a wire over the deck cargo.

We prepared to sail in the night, and before eleven o'clock when the rain was falling with the darkness the last barges disappeared into

rain on their way to shore and the cargo bottles were given to the longshoremen before they go down to their boats waiting at the lower end of the gangway.

I saw an older man in grey suit, standing in the outer alleyway discussing with the chief mate; it was the captain, and I heard him

saying:

" Put a frisk boy in boat and order him to cast off the mooring from

the buoy there."

The sheepish came over and said:

" Your who are so strong man, go down the boat and get a loose mooring from the buoy."

"No problem, I said."

I got with the Moneyman to the motorboat operating by a short man, and the boat was driven to the buoy that was tilted under the press of the mooring wire. I easy leapt on the buoy and with no problem unshackled the mooring.

The buoy jumped up like a cork and tossed me off into emptiness; I fall and felt the seawater cold as ice. I went under, and with a

flashing thought I remembered that I couldn't swim a stroke. When I managed got my head on the surface I could see the deck light of the stern of the ship shining far away, obscured by the rain and the waves that were breaking over my head. I heard a voice crying. " Hold on. Over here, take my hand! It was the Moneyman who was bending over the edge of the boat reached his hand far down trying to get hold of me. I was hauled into the boat, and I heard the boatman asking. Are you all right?

The chief mate and the sheepish were standing on the deck near the upper stage of the gangway as I was climbing wet to skin after my prolonged immersion, the sheepish glanced at me and said:" What the matter with you?"

"Nothing. It does not matter," I said.

" Can't they do anything without falling into the sea," the chief mate snapped.

After this, event I was well accepted by the other.

After the pilot was boarding, we weighed the anchor and with the steam shining we steamed out. Once in the open, we headed in the

western direction. I had my turn at the wheel in the open wheelhouse, there weren't too many apertures for the navigation, jut the compass and the radio bearing aperture in the navigation cabin behind the wheelhouse, and the eyes of the lookout man. The second mate hovered in the bridge going nervously out and in between the wing of the bridge and the wheelhouse trying evidently gets something in sight outside the ship.

Next day was Tuesday at sea. It was raining, and the wind was

blowing from the west. I was standing on the after deck and watching

NO RETURN

BY HARRY TOBIN

Copyright Harry Tobin

An average evening of an average Monday in Newstead a small town, on the west coast of Finland. The atmosphere in this tiny city was leery and isolated. One could say with amusement that the city contains just those two streets, which was called as the upper and the lower street.

By night, especially on a winter night, there was none but a few youngsters hanging around with their noisy mobiles.

There has been much grim news in this small town. The first blow hit the city with the notice that declared the shipyard will be ending its operation, and shortly after that notice all work and the hustle ceased in the shipyard, and soon there were lots of unemployed men walking and bicycling aimless along the streets.

Sadness grew over the city, and more sadness came with the second bad news, the plant that manufactured cars for export, made now everyone to know that it will reduce the folk in the factory, and the shift worker will have their last payment in hands within next two weeks, 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 be taken care.

A pub stood nearby the canal.

The dim pub was nearly empty of its customers, just two drunkards with their shabby clothing were sitting at the bar, and in the far corner of the room at a single table were seen a man sitting with his coffee.

A man wearing a black leather jacket and dungaree entered the pub; the man was about forty-five of his age with a pale complexion and a goatee. The man halted in the middle of the room and glanced around the room, his eyes swept past 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 with my car."

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

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

The man in a black leather jacket dug his pocket and fished out two twenty pieces, holding them in his palm he said.

" Not enough for a big one" then added. "Do you have some change I could have a beer"?

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

"Yes. Thanks," the leather jacket said and rose then went up to the bar holding the money in his palm. The bartender had vanished due to a little folk in the pub, the man in the leather jacket tapped the desk, a woman appeared from the back of the bar." The long one to me " the man said, and the woman filled the glass by pumping three or four times the handle. The man took the glass 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 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" the other said.

They shook hands over the table.

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 have had no chance to sign on any ship for two years. I have been thrown down on the beach, like a marooned pirate, I have signed on the dole for some money, not enough for living but poor. It's hard to get a job on a ship. There are not jobs for a man like me. There even not exists the labour exchange office for sea folks anymore. They told me to write direct 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 just want to avoid telling 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 thing start goes wrong aboard a ship. I have seen the mate sitting at the bridge in his comfort chair watching the electronic chart and the ARP radar. Many of them are even not able to recognise lighthouses by names whom they are making past. 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 seaman too. Now I am making my living for sifting boats and the small vessels from place to place, from port to port, transporting a tug or something like that. There is just a trip or two."

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

"Sometimes yes, but not just in this time. There is nothing to offer, and I am at doldrums myself with no job. But perhaps I could help you to find another job."

Henry fished out of his pocket a small Red covered notebook and started leaf it through.

"Here is one phone number that I would like to give to you."

He pulled out one white page of the notebook and took a pen and wrote something on the paper, then he passed the paper over the table to Tim.

"Give them a ring tomorrow and ask Harold," Henry said. "Harold is the owner and director of this firm. He will not ask whether you have a document or the CV. I have heard they are operating with some ship, and they would be short of sailors"

Tim looked at the page taken from the notebook. "I think have heard about this company. Thanks anyway. I will call them tomorrow." He shipped his beer and said. "I would like to invite you to my humble home. There will have nothing but coffee to drink. You can drive tomorrow.?"

The front door of the pub slammed, and a red-haired woman appeared in the doorway, wasting no time she came over. "Where you got the beer?" she asked.

Tim without lifting his eyes from the table nodded toward Henry. "This friend paid. I have invited him to our home",

"You will invite every bugger you meet, to our home".

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

"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.

"Wolswaken, Golf"?

"Yes, an old one".

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

"Go along this up to the first cross road and then to the left hand",

"Along with this, then to the left" Henry repented."

"You repeat like the helman at a ship's wheel,"

"Yes, it's the habit, rooted in the mind".

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

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

The apartment was little with two small rooms and kitchen. While the woman was in the kitchen cooking coffee, Tim showed up a room to Henry for the rest over the night. It was a small room, and its walls seem covered with oil painted pictures. Henry took a close look at pictures that describing rural people in their daily duty: Henry inspected the picture one by one; they all were no bad, actually they were painted with care and by skilful hand and eyes, but something there was, in each of them. There was something unhelpful and sad. "Who is the painter of these pictures?" Henry asked

The woman came into the room and said.

"It's me.

"Are you going to sell them?"

" No, They aren't good enough for selling them somewhere",

" They are",

"You are the first who like my pictures, I want to be 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 of what I said in the pub",

"What's that"?

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

"Never mind",

"Tim treat me so cruelly: He even threaten to drive me out, and I have no place to go".

"I Hailed from Karelia, and have a tradition that women must be silent in the church as the Bible says".

Lisa bowed toward Henry, and whispered,

" He is so cruel, but he is wonderful in the bed".

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

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

"Could I talk with Harold"?

After awhile there was man's voice came on 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 ask," Have you been before afloat? What sort of certificates your hold?"

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

"I see. I see. Harold said. "So. You are ready working as a/b aboard a ship."

"Sure I will".

"The vessel arrives at Kalmar in Swede, and I am waiting for 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, and took a walk, he walked those three kilometres that made the distance up to town and entered to 'The old Master', which was the second pub in the city and was meeting and lolling place for the jobless seamen and the shift worker of the local chemical factory.

A couple of men was sitting at the table near the front door; they saluted in stepping Tim by hailing hello and were cheered up for a passing moment from their dullness being seeing someone entering the pub hopping involuntary that the newcomer is carrying some news with him.

One of the two men sitting the table by the window was an elderly man and had a large bulk, blonde beard and he was sitting his back toward the window and his undressed jacket was lying on the bench beside him.

He was a painter and well-known man in the region, even he hasn't sold any of his pictures, he still worked with the same idea and the same theme which he has done during the last twenty years, there was the everlasting unfinished four-masted barque that had haunted his mind, and kept him going with the theme. There were numerous pictures of the vessel in his flat, among the many other things, a lot of mess and paintings were lying against the walls, he never got them completed, every attempt to get the work complete was he soon rejected him found something being wrong, It could occur in the direction of light or the sails of the vessel, so the unfinished barque continues her sailing at a moderated sea on her endless voyage all the sails set, towards the sunset

This man who was called as 'artist' was a talent, not only with his paint work or of his pallet knife or of his work which he never got ready he also well known for the way he was speaking. He spoke as the best preacher ever could speak, as an orator, though there was sometimes much theatre in his articulation.

The other fellow sitting at opposite the table was slim, and weak-voiced man, former chief engineer and he have his English styled hat on his head.

He had been service on board large tankers and when been on last of them, have fallen into a fit of paralysed with the result of retired. Now his dull and unmoving life was filled just with these daily visits in that pub, rather see the fellows' seamen and join the discussion than to drink, for he didn't drink more than one, just a beer.

The painter too wasn't very profitable for the pub for he used to drink just water from a long glass.

Seeing Tim entering, the artist said. "Who is that sophistically young man who is approaching our table?"

"Going to 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 said. "Good men, but not start to speak about the payment, he will get mad at once when you start talking about something like money".

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

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

"Not at all, my lady. Not at all. However, I would ask you be kindly enough to bring a beer for this young officer who kindly will join our company. The bill of that the 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 the when Tim phoned again using the phone in the pub , and again the female voice said;" just a minute", and the Harold came on the line.

"There is one man paying off, and you could take his place. Will you come out here to our office and have the ticket to travel to be join. Let's say around one 'clock tomorrow at noon. You can take a bus and drive to Rauma, then you take a walk along the main street, makes towards the harbor, and when you come up a lofty block you could see the number one on the corner of the block, then come in, and elevator yourself up to the fourth floor, there you can see the door of our office with a label on it, ' The Western Charter agent' ,'. Did you get it?

"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 have got a hint of a job", he said to the company at the table, "I will boarding the ship tomorrow " Tim finished up his beer, stood up and with hoisting up his hand he said, "I am leaving now. There could be a lot of water blowing in the canal before you can see me here again."

"What ship that is"? The chief engineer asked.

"Leadsund". Tim said.

"Some old rust perhaps"?

"Will see."

The artist tossed up his both hands and sang out a part of an old scanty: "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 high noon as the bus arrived at Raumo and Tim took his walk along the main street, and after a short walk he came up a whitewashed multi-storey block showing number one on the corner and towering well over the other building around.

Been driving by elevator up on the fourth floor he easy found a door where read the company's name: The office of the' Western Charter Company',

A man opened the door. It was the director, Harold himself and with no more question, he invited Tim to step in. They went into the room, and Harold gestured Tim to take sit in front of the writing desk and took out a paper and said: "Better make the contract here so jut 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 arranged 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 in which he spent no more than a couple of hours.

When he at last arrived at Kalmar it was morning, and he took the nearest taxi and drove towards the port, ending his drive beside a vessel, it was the vessel where he ought to join as an a/b. He paid off the taxi and taking his gears he embarked.

The Leatsund was the vessel with the capacity of 3400 tonnes and with length overall 46m. She was built in Fredrikahawn in Denmark 1973 and was one of that box shaped and after housed vessel that was not built as a sea boat but just for carrying the 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 ordered to replace. The man led him down into the cabin, and as he laid his gears down still holding his muster roll in his hand to be given 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 Leonard, he is the brother of Harold as everyone knows. We call him as little Harold. He is ok, but this vessel... ah, you will see. The deep tanks, some of the theme is leaking, and no one knows where the water comes in. This is working ship. Indeed on this ship you must work, You will come to know."

"What the next port"?

"Bound for St Petersburg. Russia."

When returned onto the deck they went into mess room where there were sitting four men at present. The atmosphere of the mess room was very typical for every coaster mess room. It was warmth and thick of cigarette's smoke and as it was ten o'clock and the men at present were drinking their 'ten's coffee'.

The oldest man in this mess room was a man, who was sitting at the outer end of the oval shaped table, and though there never been style or habit in a Finnish vessel to introduce each other among the ordinary sailors, Still Tim knew that man. The man was a well-known tug master who has lost his towing business and has lost his old tugboat too. in a dramatic way been assistant a cargo carrier which was sinking the tug.

Now he was holding the post as the second mate on board this vessel. He wore his leather jacket and there wasn't anything like a seaman in his outlook.

A hail raised in the crowd as Tim entered the mess room, it was Carl who has two weeks ago disappeared from the group of that daily sat in the Pub Master, disappear of Carl caused speculations until one could tell Carl having to get a job in some ship, but 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 is going there without him, in his home city. "They try to come along without you Tim said, sat at the table.

"Where is the captain"? He ten asked.

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

"Jus want to give my papers. Tim climbed to the boat deck and tapping fire on a teak door and getting open it, he found a lanky middle-aged man that he took as Leonard, the captain.

On 28th February there was news on the papers, It told a cargo ship been sinking in bad weather off the coast of Norwegian. The crew of the ship, eight men, all told went with the ship with the except of two crew members whose bodies were found drifting wearing their survival suits. The same new told the ship been briefly called in Copenhagen in Denmark where the new captain have taken over and after that the ship was reported sailed out of the Skagen and on 27th February asking for help the last words of the captain was heard; " I have seven men aboard",

The end