It was An ordinary evening of an average Monday of April in a small town on the west coast of Finland.

An atmosphere in this city was dull on Monday night, especially on the winter night when its two main streets, which was called by local usage as; The upper street, and The lower street, both were deserted - except few youngsters hanging around with their noisy mobiles.

There has been much grim news in this small town. The first blow that hit the city was a notice that declared the shipyard would ending its operation. Shortly after that warning, all work ceased in the shipyard; there were lots of unemployed men walking and bicycling aimless along the streets.

The sadness grew over the city, and more depression was coming with the other bad news which told the plant that manufactured cars for export, made now everyone to know that it will reduce the folk in the factory. The shift worker will have their last wages in hand within the 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 take care of people.

There was a Pub near the canal.

The pub was almost 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 on the middle of the room and glanced around, his eyes swept past the two drunkards, then fell over the man sitting at the table. He went over and still standing, asked," Mind if I join"?

"Just sit down."

"You are drinking coffee."

"Yes. I am in my car."

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

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

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

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

The man at the table passed three coppers over the counter. "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. There was no bartender insight due to 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 drink 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 as he turned his cigarette. "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 a living but poor. The job is hard to come to get a job on a ship. There are no jobs for a man like me. There even not exists the shipping office for the sea folks anymore. They told me to write directly to the companies' office, to make some CV as they call the application. Well, I will not write anything anywhere. I have my discharge book, the seaman book, you know; it has been enough to certificate my ability to be a sailor." Tim shipped his beer then went on. "They want to avoid saying 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 comfortable chair, watching the electronic chart and the ARP radar. Many of them are even not able to recognise the lighthouses by names whom they are making past by. 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 present. 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 a 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 I 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 raising his eyes from the table, he 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 crossroad and then to the left hand",

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

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

"Yes, it's the habit,".

It was 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 a group of low- roofing apartments was seen on the right side of 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 a kitchen. While the woman was in the kitchen cooking coffee, Tim showed up a place 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 images that describing rural people in their daily duty: Henry inspected the picture one by one; they all were no worse. 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 bugger. It didn't mean anything",

"Never mind",

"Tim oppress me: He even threatens 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, you know, he is wonderful in the bed".

Henry said nothing; he felt being an outsider of this little family where he temporally has 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 the woman's voice said "Western charter company",

"Could I talk with Harold"?

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

"I have heard you are short of sailors, I'm with no job, and I'm making this call asking for a job."

Harold listened and then asked," Have you been before afloat? What sort of certificates 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 a 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 for seeing someone entering the pub hopping involuntary that the newcomer is carrying some news with him.

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

He was a painter even he hasn't sold any of his pictures he still worked with the same idea and the same theme with which he has been working during the last twenty years; it 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 completed was he soon rejected as he found something wrong with em'., 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

The artist was a great talent, not only with his paintwork or of his palette knife or of his work which he never got completed, he had a reputation for the way he was speaking. He spoke as the best preacher ever could talk, as the best orator, though there was sometimes much theatre in his articulation.

The other fellow sitting at the opposite side of the table was a slim, weak-voiced man, the former chief engineer who had his fashioned English hat on his head.

He had been a tanker-man, and when been on last of the tanker, had suffered some fit with the result of retiring.

Now his dull and unmoving life was filled with these daily visits made in that pub, to see the fellows' seamen and join the discussion and to drink a bottle of beer 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 have a job, Tim said and joined the company.

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

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

"Harold." The chief engineer 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 night?"

"Not at all, my lady. Not at all. However, I would ask you to be kind 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 banknote 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 when Tim phoned again using the phone in the pub, and the female voice said;" just a minute", and the Harold came on the line.

"One man is paying off, and you could take his place. Will you come out here to our office and have the ticket to travel to 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 harbour. 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, where 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 flowing 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 quickly 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 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 expenses."

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 have fixed, all in order, including a cabin aboard the Ferry in which he didn't spend any more than a couple of hours.

When he, finally, 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. He paid off the cab 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 the housed vessel that was not made 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 a 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 to the deck, they went into the 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 a warm room thick with cigarette's smoke, and as it was ten o'clock in the morning, it's was the 'ten's coffee' Time.

The oldest man in this mess room 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, 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. Dramatically, during assistant a cargo carrier which ended by sinking the tug.

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

A hail raised in the crowd as Tim entered the mess room, Carl who has two weeks ago disappeared from the group of that daily idle sitting drinkers and talkers in the Pub Master, go of Carl caused speculations until one could tell Carl having to get a job in some ship. Still, no one didn't know the name of that ship.

Carl cheered an old buddy and wished him to welcome on board. As a home city fellow, Carl wanted to know how is going there without him, in his home city. "They try to come along without you, Tim said, taking his place at the table.

"Where is the captain"? He then asked.

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

"Want to give my papers. Tim climbed to the boat deck and tapping fire on a teak door and getting open it; he found a lean 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 vessel, 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 said the ship been briefly to called in Copenhagen in Denmark where the new captain has taken over, and after that, the vessel 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",