The Skipper

 North West blew with snowflakes; there was a smell of winter.

Two days ago the ground had been snowless and the weather mild, now all the signs indicated that the climate above the sixty latitudes is turning into winter.

I saw a ship, berthed at the quay of Andradite. She was there, laying in the chilly dawn like an up laying vessel giving an impression as if she had totally abandoned, and the frozen motionless environment breathed out such coldness that it made me shiver. The only sound to be heard in this cold air - was a slow hum from her funnel.

The hull of the freighter seem been coloured with a patch of rust and her upper work was white and I could see that the painting work didn't be brushed with paint either. She was true enough, not a top modern of a vessel, hardly more than two hundred foot in her length, with the capacity around one thousand and six hundred cross-tonnage by type of coaster, evidently built somewhere in Holland for carrying bulk and general cargo.

On her stern could be seen her name and her port of registry: Que. Vadis. Malta, the white letters read.

"You can take a journey to Germany by the ship", the Agent had told me.

"There may occur some postponement, but anyway, it's the cheapest way to travel, Don't worry. I know you have a lot a time. Perhaps you can give a hand helping for some small jobs aboard."

Upon boarding I couldn't see anyone anywhere , the deck was empty of people, not a single living soul in sight. The time was early morning and I came to the conclusion that, certainly not even those bloody sailors stand by all the time on deck. by stamping my feet on deck in front of a red oak door I did my boarding public.

A buff of indoor air with an odour of cooking oil blew through the open doorway and there was a narrow alleyway, from which I found a space which I could recognise at once the ship's Galley. There was a man in this small Galley, a busy young man wearing a multicoloured shirt and pair of blue dungarees.

The busy fellow didn't pay any attention to me and my arrival just gave me a quick glance.

"Where can I find the captain?" I asked.

By his left hand, the man pointed across the short alleyway." Over there. I think ".

I laid my luggage on the bench, then went to the door and knocked on it. An answer came from behind the door, it was a low-voiced. "Jees. Come in!"

I pushed the door open and entered the captain's salon. It was a spacious,low-ceiling ship's salon, furnished with typical ship's interior things. A partition divided the sleeping quarters from the main salon. There was a man sitting, sitting on a sofa, under the square-shaped windows; the man on the red sofa was smoking his cigarette, bearded strongly built man around forty. When I came in he stood up and greeted me with a firm handshake and I heard his name uttered `Manfar Orlov.` After shifting some papers on the table, the master gestured me to sit down.

" I heard you wish to Germany with us, the master said. "It's it true?

"That's right,"

"Couldn't you find an easier way to travel? You have chosen a bad season for your tour".

"Actually I wish to see the sea life," I said.

"Oh. I see," the master said and lit his next cigarette, then he picked up a bag of cigarettes from the carton lying on the table, and passed it to me.

" You mean, the wholly one?" I asked.

"Yes. Keep it. We have a lot that sort of stuff". the master said, then added,

"I do not know about a passenger aboard" he straightened his back. "There is a mutiny in progress among the Polish crew. Well, the cook will still prepare some food. But the others crew members, they don't want to get up from their cabins anymore. The Polish crew has formulated some sort of solidarity group and the Chief engineer want to be some sort of Leach Valeca, the leader, you know. They don't want work anymore aboard this vessel, with the only exception an able seaman named Janock, but in the last few days, he has begun to avoid me as well. This situation has been since we left England. But it has now come into its final state. Well. If you still are ready to stay here. Welcome aboard. We've got a life jacket for one extra person. You can take lodgings in the pilot's cabin. The mate will show it to you."

The door opened and a tall young man entered the captain's salon.

"My name is Apo," the man said and stretched his hand.

Apo, the Chief Mate of the Qua Vadis was a tall blond fellow and he took me by an interior ladder up to the upper deck, behind the Command Bridge, where the pilot's cabin was located. I found him being a gregarious, extroverted young man with his nature open and ingenuous and I become to know him smelling all the time of raw whisky.

"Here life can be a bit restless, but from this stage, you will have a good opportunity to study the sea life," he taunted. "Anyway, we haven't any other cabins."

"This is good enough", I said.

For the supper, men gathered in the small mess-room. One by one, and by pairs they came. There were eaters around the oval shaped table: the captain and his wholly crew; seven men, all told, and the cook. The meal was served on the table; there were beef, apricots and beans.

They eat their meals with no talk, everyone but the captain staring down at their plates. I could feel the tense atmosphere like in a funeral procession.

Immediately after the meal, I went to the captain's cabin, where the Chief engineer already stood in the middle of the floor. I came just in time to hear the Chief engineer saying in a voice that everyone could hear.

"Captain," the chief engineer announced. "We are not your enemy, but you must understand, we'll not go anywhere with this ship anymore. It is the crew's decision. We are now secured at the harbour of this neutral country. We don't want to postpone this matter any longer. We only need our wages paid and travel tickets home. To be paid off. That's all we want."

Captain Orlov said nothing for a moment, then he turned and picked up a blue file from the shelf.

"Have to look what the law says about this case," he said and pulled out a sheet from the blue file and then pointed the paper.

"If an employee leaves the ship before ending the contract, he will lose one month's salary and will lose the prospect of a free passage home. Every one of you has been here only for four months, except the able seamen, who has served longer. All of you have the responsibility of having signed and accepted this contract. When I took it upon myself to act as the master of this ship, I also undertook the responsibility to defend the interests of the ship."

The chief changed his legs and his temper rose.

"This ship is not seaworthy anymore!" the chief exclaimed angrily. "This ship have only one generator in function. Captain, you don't know everything. When you were on your holiday, and this person was a substitute for you," he pointed towards the mate. "We were all in danger to sink. The Russian mate, who was aboard at the time couldn't sleep for a week because he was worried for the ship's safety. Then we got blacked out in the Gulf of Biskaja in such horrible weather. On the same night, there was a ship, a Dustman. sinking and we were nearly sinking, too. When we then finally arrived at Rotterdam, the Russian mate was so weak and emaciated that we could see the bones of his face and it was necessary to send him to the hospital. After Rotterdam, we sailed to Denmark without the Mate on the bridge. The able seaman was then acting as mate without a ticket. Say what you like, it is wrong. We're all lucky to be alive. I am not any street boy. We don't want to remain aboard this ship any longer. What I will do, I m going to make a protest against this case."

After this saying the chief turned around and rushed away, I saw him disappearing into the passage of the crew quarters. He had gone bellow carrying the Job's post to his shipmates below.

By the afternoon the Agent brought a fax message sent by the cargo charter company.

Orlov showed the telegram to me. There was a sharp order; the ship must put to sea, the destination being Estonia. Actually, that telex contained an order for the ship to be at the loading dock by the next afternoon. There the ship would be supplied with a fresh crew and anything else she would need.

Orlov rolled up the telegram paper and put it into an empty glass.

" The god in heaven, and the master on board his ship," he said. Then he took a pencil and after writing something with it, he gave the paper to the Agent.

"Please send this to the charter company; We cannot leave without the crew. The Polish crew will run away, and the ship needs money and new hands.

By five a clock in the evening Captain Orlov summoned all the crew to the captain's salon. I went along to see what it was all about.

Orlov sat on his sofa; his mate Apo sat beside him on his right side and the Agent on his left side. There were papers on the table, and little apart from them could be seen four tickets. The crew crowded the room. The captain spoke and there was a sharp sound in his tone.

"!You all will have the travel tickets from here to home. The A/B will get all of his wages paid up to this day, and, I have thought about this and I will offer five hundred dollars to everyone. Moreover, I want everybody to know that there is not any obligation to pay even five hundred dollars to your; this is a kindness of my own, which I may regret." The captain paused and opened a metal box which from he piled out four piles of banknotes and placed in a row on the table.

" Five hundred dollars for each one", he said and closed the box.

A red came over the face of the chief engineer. "You are crazy!" he exclaimed, and with an excited mind, he looked at the Agent, then turned toward me. "I want the ITF men here. Right now. Do you know where I can find them? he asked." I answered that I did know the whereabouts of the ITF people.

With an agitated mind the chief engineer turned around and marched away, his shipmates at his heels, I could hear an angry murmur as they went.

"They now go ashore to make a telephone call," Orlov said. "They should have accepted the money when they had the chance. Now they will have nothing."

"It's the worst thing to the East Europeans, whatever could happen; They lose their American dollars, poor devils. Moreover, they have enough money; I know, I have seen all the contraband business they have done," Apo said.

Captain Orlov lit his cigarette again (he seemed to smoke constantly), then rose and brought four bottles of beer from the side locker and offered them to us and said. "Do you know, What's worst, in this case, " he opened a bottle and answered himself to the question.

" I well understand them. Even I could feel compassion for them. But I'm not in a position to show any sympathy nor solitary. At the same time, I could give whistle over the game. Well, perhaps it is a bit unfair, but it could hit every single man onboard this kind of vessel. We could have - every one of us - the same destiny. It may happen tomorrow. I have no illusions about what will happen here. The only thing we can to do is to try to save the skin of our own against the green beast, against the charters, the owners and many sorts of inspectors."

Next morning I began voluntarily working in the abandoned galley. At first, I had to make an inspection for the supplies of food. There was a lot of frozen chicken and also various other stuff in the cold storage. The dry food store couldn't be said to be at all well provided with food; I found it provided mainly with macaroons and various sorts of hulled grain, tins of corned beef, and coffee.

Spending much time in the galley, doing the best of my ability, I managed to prepare a meal from the ingredients I had gathered together. I used escalope of canned foods baked in Argentina. All the time I strongly felt the peculiar aroma of the ship's interior as it surrounded me.

And evening, when I was washing the cutlery in the galley I heard a door slamming and a fair-haired man's head appeared in the doorway; the head with a pair blue eyes looked into the galley.

"Did I come to the right place?" the head asked.

"It depends on what you mean by that."

"Is the ship's name Quer Varis? Or however, it's pronounced?"

"You have come aboard a right ship," I said.

Now the whole man came into sight and said, "I´m the Engineer, The Chief engineer. Ulla Tom is the name - an Estonian."

In spite of the bitter coldness of winter air, the engineer was dressed in just a light blouse.

" Was sent me by a plane to Stockholm, then by taxi here. ´Kurat! Perkrle!" With upset mind, he nervously cursed at the doorway. "I am without any money in my pocket and there is the taxi man waiting for his payment on the quay."

"Please. Speak to the captain," I said.

But he did not have to; the captain and Apo were already there. The Mate got the order to pay off the taxi and Orlov began to examine the newcomer. He made some inquiry of the new engineer's previous vessel and was obviously pleased getting known that the newcomer had serviced before as Chief Engineer on board fishing vessels.

When Ula Tom had found his cabin and was taking one's stand, as a seaman aboard, as the saying is going, he then came up into the mess room where I had brought a full can of coffee. He told been out in Artic Ocean working in the Russian fishing fleet; many of the vessels were no more than cramped, rusting coffins with interminable mechanical breakdowns.

" There were a lot of different machines there, heavy ones and light ones and all the time there was trouble with them. Our technique didn't quite work out very well."

On the same evening two more men arrived aboard, they were Finnish, sent by the charter. One of them was tall and fat and the other one was slim and short; both of them were sullen, like two peasants; they didn't even answer my greeting.

I didn't know what the time was when I woke out of my sleep in the bunk of the pilot's cabin. A cold light from the pylon fell through the window it lighted the small cabin with cold light. A terrible noise was heard below. An odd noise carried through the ship and made its way into my cabin. It sounded just like a howl. I got up, then pulled on some clothes and swung my legs over the bunk's edge then sat listening for a moment. Sure enough, there was something wrong down below in the engine room.

When I reached to turn on the light, the lamp above the bed flashed with the sound of a sharp bang and went out. From down below came a sharp sound as a slam of iron doors and there were excited human voices to be heard, I could felt a smell of burning electrical equipment, and still there were the ears tearing noise of the over-running generator. Then the noise suddenly ceased and a deep silence descended. Several pairs of feet ran in the hallway and Alpo rushed up by the interior ladder carrying an extinguisher; the captain was behind him carrying another extinguisher.

When the air was clear of the dust of extinguisher powder, I asked,

"What happened?"

" Damn.The generator," Orlov said. "The generator has run-over and burnt itself out. The over-voltage-protector, doesn't it work? Could there been sabotage?"

There wasn't answer for such question.

"How is the gyrocompass?"

"It's gone," Apo said.

"TheVHF radio?"

"It wasn't on; it's okay now."

"There is a curse following this ship."

Chapter 6

The next two days the repairs carried out; there were two of the electricians from shore and they went up and down by ladders. All the days along men were searching up the damages; finally, the lights in the alleyway came on, yet half of the ship was still blacked out, so the work went on. By the afternoon of the last day, there were numerous damaged couplers changed. It delayed us three days and at the end of the last day the captain in his gloomy mind wanted to put the ship to sea.

And it was next day at noon as we went to sea. It was December and most darkness season at the northern latitude. The chilly winter day was dark and there was ice on the surface of the water in the harbour.

After three brief manoeuvres, Qua Vadis made off, swinging her bow to the open sea. The first part of the voyage had begun.

The gyrocompass and autopilot were out of order. The compass that still operated was situated on the roof of the wheelhouse, atop of the monkey island, from where the periscope's tube led through the ceiling of the wheelhouse. A high wooden chair was placed behind the wheel and Apo was sitting on it, he sat on his post doing his steering by glancing at the periscope at regular intervals.

The grey expanse of the sea around; under the gloomy overcast sky, far and widely. out there, in the horizon, the sky and the sea was taking the same grey gloomy grey, it was the common colour in this chilly landscape. Further out southward, in the dusky skyline, there could be seen promontories looming out with the top of white caps of snow, there was the outermost corner of the western coast of Finland.

This almost unsalted sea region is one of the roughest seas in the world. During a winter you could suffer from those three inevitable elements: the darkness, the storms, and the ice. altogether, a dismal icy-cold gale could last for days or a blind blizzard driven by a gale then there is the drifting ice pressing your ship against the ragged seaboard and mashed her like an egg.

I saw a bright point, like a flashing light, dead ahead. It appeared been a lighthouse, standing on an outer rock. We were out now at the Sea of Bothnia making good progress: the bow waves sighted and our wake trained away and lost of sight. The coastline of the mainland behind us was still visible. now very low and hazy gloom of the distance hills.

Suddenly the VHF radio in the corner of the wheelhouse woke into life and was bursting out the forecast, read out in a monotone tone, it told that a gale was coming, the warning was giving for the sea traffic. According to the weather report, there would be local showers to come, and the visibility may be limited to four miles.

I heard the captain swearing. "Damn, The wind will be against us. It means we can't make headway. This is an empty vessel. The weather may be not all that bad, but it will be too bad for making headway and there is no point in battering this lightship against the seas with no purpose."

" Take the punishment after hardness, but the Lord will not forsake his children," Apo announced behind the wheel.

Orlov didn't see any comedy in such circumstances.

"We must take this vessel to a shelter," he said and leant over the chart table. Having checked the navigation chart he straightened his body. "There it is," he tapped his finger on a spot on the chart. "Six hours more, and we will enter into the archipelago where we will find an easy place for drop the anchor."

I went below, under the main deck and made my way along the lowest alleyway further down where the cabins of sailors were situated, and finally came to the door of the engine room. The noise of engines ran between the iron walls and along of the corridor. I took to look through the doorway down below much by the same fashion as a man look down over the edge of a well, and I saw there below there in the engine room Ula Tomp, he was sitting by the huge main engine some papers in his hands.

I stayed for a moment on the upper platform atop the engine room looking down; it was useless to try to arrest Ulna's attention in such noise.

After returning to the bridge, Ula joined. "How the engine looked down there?" asked Orlov.

"Problem we not have," said Ula by his peculiar way of speaking. "I found the valves, which could steer the warm water into radiators."

"Good," said Orlov; he stood at the wheelhouse window, his nose close to the glass.

"What is our hurry?" asked Ula.

"Hurry? Ah, you mean the speed. She makes eight and a half now."

Shivering in his thin clothes for a while, Ula turned and went back below into the engine room.

After the short dim daylight and the grey coloured sea, there was long dark evening and black sea under. Various floating lights were seen upon the dark sea, the lights of ships, and there were several bright flashes of beacons from the shore as well.

Orlov ordered a phone call by the Stockholm coastal station he wanted to speak the charter.

Through the loudspeaker, we could overhear how the receiver was lifted far away from us, somewhere in the warm and hospitable environment of normal human life.

"Johnson," a male's voice said.

It was a man's voice from the another world; so far from the chilly shipboard that the speaker at the phone could be very well on the moon. Orlov reported the situation, "We are on the way, but I have decided to stay at anchor for the storm."

There was quiet for while, then there was the question: "Not any real seaman onboard?"

I listened what will be the answer of the captain for this kind of blasphemous accusation.

But it didn't seem to upset him. He didn't care, for after a brief silence he went on.

"We here must operate under these circumstances and the weather conditions," hanging up the phone I hear him muttered,

"The shore bastards never learn", he said and began staring at the radar.

After the midnight here was a roar from the bow as the anchor crashed into the black water and the cable surged up and out of the chain locker.

Two chain locks were out in the water and one locked on the windlass; we were riding on the lee side of the small rocky island, over the night and till the next afternoon. Then the weather got worse and there was a drag in the anchor. The order was given to pick up the anchor and get to move to seek a better anchorage in the archipelago.

Apo accompanied by the two newcomers, so-called seaman, whom Orlov was renamed as 'runners,' went to the forecastle head and started weighing up the port side anchor. It was wet and cold and the wind from the south-east came in gusting driving sleet. The last weak light of the gloomy day was gone, the day was rapidly turning into darkness, I could see the black small figures popped on the forecastle by the rail, and there was the rattle of the windlass heaving the anchor. Then the figures started to move like in a panic, and I could saw how one of the runners came running along the deck. I bent over the windbreak's, to see down to the main deck which was illuminated by electric light; the man stayed there, his face turned upward with his hands cupped around his mouth. He was crying out something: "Anchor..there´s some cable. Impossibility haul." A detached fragment of the man's words was snatched by the wind.

Orlov started to swear, " Satan, damn!" he claimed. "What a hell there is going on? Submarine electric cable is now in our anchor. Let it go back, then up again" he sharply ordered.

There was a cracking sound of the anchor chain as it turned over the gipsy wheel then descended into the chain locker. During this anchor weighing operation, the weather seemed worsened, and the wind drove more rain and sleet. Down there on the lee side of the ship, there could be seen looming out from the dusk a surf, it was a submerged rock, no more than a distance of two cables and there was rocky shore behind it.

"We're dragging down," said Orlov. "It means we're moving back. Let more out the anchor chain."

It was more than likely that the safe of the ship was on the razor's edge.

Orlov went to the chart table. A cable or whatever it was, was now attached to our anchor.

"It seems that we have picked up a cord," he said. "There are many submarine cables around this area. Don't know exactly where. It must be some old, forsaken one. Who knows?"

It was becoming clear that there was something like a cable in our anchor, thick as a man's wrist. Despite many attempts, the cable was still there, jammed in the anchor. Orlov ordered the anchor down, over and over back down into the water.

The steel framed clock on the bulkhead of the wheelhouse showed no more than half past four in afternoon; it was already dark. and the antennas and parts in the signal mast overhead gave sound like howling and mourning and the slanting rain drummed against the windows. Apo came up the bridge; he was wet to the skin and with him, the wind blew through the open doorway.

"The anchor's grab is caught on the cable. I am going to cut it free with an axe," he said

Orlov shook his head, "If there is power in it, it may be high voltage. It's very dangerous."

"It's a telephone cable, I think," argued the mate. "I'm going to get an axe and to cut it off. What else can we do? There is no water there," he pointed out to the lee side. "We will be drifting ashore soon."

With a reluctant mind, Orlov consented to the proposal. "Okay," he said, "Do it, and be careful."

Apo turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Again the windlass rattled on the forecastle head, I could see how the figures suddenly straightened their backs and the ship started moving forward by propelled herself ahead. She was free from the grip of the submarine cables.

At a distance of some miles was a solitary ferry port. A ferry with her all lamps shining was secured at the narrow jetty which stuck out into the sea. The rain and the darkness of the night obscured the view to the pier. The blinking lights of the ferry loomed behind a squall. We were now heading towards these lights; the captain had decided to berth alongside the jetty. Standing near the window, keeping a sharp lookout, Orlov steered his ship by a small joystick. The wind and the waves behind us, immediately beyond the jetty, there could be seen a faint flash of surge against the edge of the rocky

shore. I thought that the ship should to clear the head of the jetty in the right position - there would be no room for any extra manoeuvring. The first attempt had to succeed. The captain drove with low speed, studying intently the shape of the approaching jetty, which now emerged under the ferry's upper deck lights.

I tried hard to find something under the blinding ferry's light and then I saw the outer corner of the concrete, it emerged from the dusk and it was the jetty. There it was, now at a distance less than a hundred feet and it drew nearer very fast. The main engine started full ahead; the bow swung to the left and her port side came windward. Then there was the sound of an awful run, for full astern, I I could feel the strikes of the wildly running screw under my soles. The outer tip of the wharf was approaching, the distance between the ship and the jetty narrowed. I understood that if the head of the jetty hit the ship on after from the med-ship, it could toss the stern out and she might rush ahead making those few meters past the head of the jetty and ran into the ferry by the strength of an express train.

It did not happen. With a well-timed manoeuvring, Orlov swung the ship alongside the jetty.

The side of the ship hit the corner of the jetty, just a few feet forward from mid-ship and. The bump was so violent that I had to support myself against the wall of the wheelhouse to avoid falling down. The lines flew over the pier and for the moment there was a great turmoil with lines and high activity on the bow; the mate with his part was rushing around the pollards, both runners flew around, been hurried up by the mate, and the lines flew through the rain and the wind.

After getting the mooring ready, Apo came into mess room, his face reddened and he breathed heavily; as soon as he got his wet blouse off he snorted, "Those runners are incompetents! To hell with them. I had to do it all myself; they're absolutely not worth of they salt. Anyway, the situation was well in hands. There was well ship's handling; for the very moment, I was afraid she was going bump into the ferry. Well done anyway."

Orlov decided to send the runners back to Finland by the ferry.

"This is a working ship. They have nothing to do here."

At the supper, Apo told us he had seen the runners going ashore carrying a large black plastic bag with them.

"Did they steal the bedclothes from the ship ?" Orlov asked.

Chapter 7

The ferry brought a new man for us. He was a clean-shaven young man, a real ferry officer. His name was Rolle; he was sober and his handshake was firm. He told us been serving as a chief officer on the ferry and now he was liberty for a week; he wasn't anything like the withered savage sailor. "I have still a week - time enough for this voyage," he said.

It was raining all the night and the violent south - south easterly become more violent and howled throughout the night and the whole morning. Then it gradually eased, and veered to the south-west and moderated.

Orlov ordered the engines ready for sea and a little bit later on, he informed us that the ship would sail, the wind was turned to the south and began to abate.

Now there was a new phenomenon in the northern-Baltic sea. The fog had spread out and totally blanked the scene. We ran into the fog - dense as pea-sup, with the misleading compass. The fog hovered above the surface of the water and the pale winter sun penetrated the fog making the fog shining snow-white. There was a blinking shine in it and a sensation as though we were hanging in the air, making our way through the emptiness or in an illuminating gas, there was not a solid substance, not point of view, the visibility reduced to nil.

"Devil! Are we in the air?" Apo swore. He couldn't see properly the radar's screen.

"There is the snow, storm, the fog, the darkness, the northern lights and the sun, and all these could occur during one day. was told that the weather above sixty degrees latitude could ride with seven horses." He strained his eyes to see through the' rubber boots' the display device of the radar.

The day went by beating against the waves; by afternoon the sea was flattened down and there was no more rough beating but the slaps of small waves and showers of spray. When darkness fell we were off the flat coast region, which was seen as a narrow black streak on the eastern horizon. Now making full speed in the eastern direction; an hour later we headed into a shadow cast by the cloudy eastern sky and the closeness of the unknown landscape. There was an isle in the darkness of the night.

Role gave a glance over at Orlov. "You are making the northerly side of the island. Aren't you. Is it safe? "

"I know the water here," Orlov said, "We will save the time this way; I think there is nothing risky over there. A year ago this road was poisoned with mines and was impossible to use."

After an hour Orlov slowed down the engine then he sent out the first the call of the pilot by the VHF radio.

"We have no chart aboard of this area, so we will make anchorage here. Let's teak stand by the port-side anchor," he ordered.

Chapter 9

The fog has gone, the sea was calm and the air was bitterly cold. The night around the ship was pitch-dark and all the bustle ceased on the shipboard was now silence.

We were hooked, as the seamen used to say; the clatter of the main engine was stopped, the hum of the generator was still carried up from below; the shipboard around us was familiar and there was the smell of cooked coffee in the air. Ula was not seen. He was below, among his machinery.

There could be seen a weak solitary light, far away, it was the only visible point in the outer darkness; it looked like a little twinkling hole in the black paper. The calm water outside the ship side showed

coal-black reflections and the environment around still and empty. However, somewhere there was the land, not so far away, an inhabited shore.

Every now and then I could see a white flash of the white wings of the seagulls as they noiseless wheeled across the circle of deck lights. The continually evolving of the radar's screen was the only means to see the edge of the invisible shore which showed up by the green electronic reflections.

At regular intervals Apo got to his feet and went to the VHF making a call to the pilot - there was no response; there were the messages between the fishermen to be heard only.

We remain on the bridge in the dimness of the wheelhouse lighted only by the luminous apparatuses. Each of us could have gone into our bunks to get a rest for a moment, but the vicinity of the new port kept our eyes watchful.

Role was straightening himself on the chest containing the lifesaving aids. Orlov sat in his skipper's chair and reclined his feet. Apo was leaning against the wheel.

"I've been aboard the passenger ferry only," Role began to tell. "There you can have uniforms and a regular life - Ain't used to be an officer in this sort of vessel. I went to nautical college just for to be an officer on a fine ship with all the comfort. I couldn't think a job like yours here. What use it to be an officer in such a ship? I can't understand how you can endure all this."

"It's not so hard here all the time," said Orlov, "In the summertime, the living conditions here are not so bad, unlike autumn and wintertime. In the summer time, you can even enjoy. This could be some kind of living. As in life itself, there are bad and good moments. The worst of this is that the owners of this sort of vessel - almost all of them -ignorant of navigation and of these troubles here. The situation is getting even worse; there are too many speculators in the shipping business; they buy a ship somewhere for a cheap price. In most cases, they don't have any knowledge about the ships, no rules, nor dues agreements either, or shipping or nautical things in general. All that they need is the status of the ship-owner and easy money. Among the ordinary people, there is still a mystical belief about the well off captains and the ship's owners; it could arise from the age of the trading houses when the ship's owners were greed, masters and nobleman. These ships fall into hands of indefinite brokers, less as a year later these brokers skin the unaware owner's spic-and-span. We are running the ship without any repairs until she falls down under our feet. Our wages are cut down; it's reduced to barely subsistence levels. We will have compensation for our trouble only if everything goes okay. We are like fishermen, whose compensation is dependent on a catch. Every autumn there are sinking or getting in serious difficulties many this type of vessel." Orlov got to his feet and walked to and fro. He continued delivered his speech. "The shore bastards will never learn the lesson that when there is the fall coming to this sort of ship needs twice the time for making the same voyage that she spends in the summer time. When the winter comes there could be entirely different circumstances."

"Doesn't find there any sailors onboard?" the mate said.

"Just like that, they blame us; we are impotent and idlers."

At three o'clock in the morning, Apo saw something which caught his attention in the darkness; there were weak navigation lights. The captain scanned it with binoculars. To judge by the alternation of the navigation light, the approaching vessel must be a small craft, although the small vessel's profile was unseen. She might be one of those boats which looked like a semi-patrol boat and half a tug. She was heading straight for us. Similar boats you could see at every freight and fishing port of the USSR. Those strongly build craft been operated for civilian and military supply and demand. Now the unknown boat had drawn so close that it was possible to see the white mane of her bow's wave, under her red sidelight.

"She is short of the red top light," Orlov said, "However; it could be the pilot boat. Let's stand by the ladder."

The boat drove alongside, there was a yelping sound as her rubber fender touched the ship's side and from her howling exhaust pipe poured out ill-smelling smoke into the circle of deck light. The strange individual who was assisted on board from that boat was an old bareheaded man dressed in discoloured overalls.

"Is she a Finnish ship?" The man enquiry after he had got on his feet and had climbed up into the wheelhouse.

"No. She is registered in Malta and flying the Maltese flag with a dead weight of a thousand six hundred tonnes, length overall; two hundred and twenty feet. Middle draught ten feet, and we, almost all aboard, are speaking Finnish," Orlov informed the pilot, then he let the pilot man know that the gyro-compass was out of orders " The radar you there have anyway?" said the pilot.

We started for the port.

There was a great uncertainty in the pilot's actions. Voiceless and fidgety, the pilot peeped through the windows; it seemed that the pilot wasn't aware of his task. I heard Orlov inquiring whether the course was good. There wasn't any reply to the pilot or command for the steering.

"It is the fishing port there," the pilot said, pointing by his hand forward. "Everybody there was asleep at home when a fisherman let me know that there is a ship calling the pilot."

"Didn't you know we were coming?"

"No."

Regardless of his uncertain, the pilot tried to keep up appearances.

Orlov lowered his tone, "What oldster is this?" he whispered to the mate, but the pilot man overheard the question.

"Not just any oldster," he said angrily. After that, there was annoying silence on the bridge.

Rolle was standing at the radar, watching the electronic reflection on the radar's screen.

"Is the course correct? I think we are heading directly to shore," he said.

"The compass is stacked! Get up to the roof of the wheel house and shake it!" Orlov ordered the mate. "The vertical axis of the compass is worn and when the sea is calm as now the card getting nowhere and to stay immobile."

The sound of Footsteps rang on the roof of the wheelhouse.

"Well, now it will show the correct direction."

It was daybreak when we arrived at the mouth of the small harbour and the harbour area began to open up before us. Here and there were white-painted fishing ships laying head to stern with their sides rusted.

"They have been fishing at the Northern - Atlantic; the ships get rusting out there. You know, it's the saltwater and gale there," the pilot said. Then he pointed out to a place behind a fishing vessel.

"There is the place for our mooring."

In spite of the early morning, a group of men was gathered on the quay, a bit apart from them stood a lot of soldiers, wearing long green mantles.

Leaning his bulk out over the edge of the windbreaker, the courier greeted the men on the quay with a cheerful hail, and the bunch on the quay shouted back in the chorus which sounded like: "Tere tule mats, Tere tulemas." Judging from all this, I came to a conclusion that a foreign ship has made a rare visit to this port.

By seven o'clock in the morning, we were tied up and immediately after the gangway was laid down, the grey-clothed men rushed onboard and occupied the ship's salon.

There were the agent, the shipper, the customs officer, the border guard, and three young men dressed in their best, and in addition to them, a few port officials.

"Well quite long time we have been waiting for you," they exclaim in the chorus.

"These three men will be joining as crewmen," said the agent; he pointed at the three men who were hanging back.

I saw their anxiety; perhaps this was the first opportunity for them to get joined a foreign ship to earn the American dollars. Standing there wearing their black suit, these three men waited intently and when their time came they offered their seamen's books to the captain to be check. Orlov glanced over those papers and orderedApo to show their cabins. An hour later, the commission went ashore, leaving a lonely sentry to keep an eye the gangway.

In my cabin, I undressed and got into bed. Before I fell asleep I could hear the booming of the cargo hatches and there was the sound of several vigorous feet stamping the iron deck, it was the sound of work aboard. The routine had begun.

Chapter 10

I woke and the day seemed to be afternoon, I felt brisk and after dressed I descend, there was a smell of fried fish coming up from the stairway. In the Galley, I found the new able seaman by the gas cooker. His name was Preku, an Estonian. an extroverted young man. When I wanted to know where from he had got the fish, he said, "From the fishing vessel in front us. We have known some friends there. They are good fellows, and so they offered these fish to us."

He spoke Finnish; his Finnish was good and his articulation faultless.

I wondered about-about the language, he smiled.

"O yes. In Tallinn, we're within the range of the Finnish television. We always watch the Finnish TV; it's our tutor, though the advertisements, you know, they are the best."

Because I had nothing to do onboard, I made up my mind to go ashore, to have a walk, and get to know a little bit about the town.

I walked along the pitted road the firm soil felt well under my feet. The road was lined with trees, all bare and the pools of water were frozen. A row of wooden houses ran by the road with well taken care of yards and grass.

I came into the town past the houses. along with a narrow street, I passed the first shop. The noise of traffic rang in the streets and street was jammed with people. Then the centre of the town, the streets went more narrow and the air was filled with colourful odorous and the gateways stank of urine. I entered a store to see; inside finding anything to pay, the store was poor and the displays in the shop window plain, and there was a smell, the customary smell of the public warehouses.

The market was a crowded place; the multitude was dressed in colourless old-fashioned suits. For an hour, I walked aimlessly. Then all that began to feel a bit monotonous and when I saw the door of the restaurant; I went in and found a large dim room. The room was furnished with tables, covered with white cloths and long, heavy curtains hung before the windows.

Behind the counter, someone stirred and in a dim corner of the room sat a group of men.

I ordered a vodka and when I was sipping it, the door opened and a drunken man, wearing white unbuttoned gabardine, entered the restaurant. With drunken interest the man took a glance over the room, first in the direction of the group sitting in the corner, then he fixed his eyes on me; he came quite close me. I felt his breathing.

"How did you come?" the man asked.

"By the ship."

"Which ship?"

"That one that arrived in the morning."

He put his arm on my shoulder.

"We are friends. Estonians and Finnish are always friends together," he loudly

declared.

Then he turned toward the group of men in the corner. "This one is from the ship. The ship in the Port." He noisy announced, "Please enlist me on your ship; I can do everything."

I shook free myself. "I am not in such a position aboard that I could hire someone," I said.

"We are Negroes," the man exclaimed with disappointment and went with tottering steps to the table.

"We are Negroes!" he repeated. There was something low spirit in this drunken declaration something which reflected the deep reduction of the nation. I gulped up my drink and left.

From far away I could see the movement of the cranes, the loading had begun. When I returned aboard it was supper time. The mess room was full of eaters; there was present the nocturnal pilot, as well.

When he discovered me, he greeted me heartily. He was changed his language into English,

"Can we talk," he asked.

"Of course, we can."

"Was told," he said, "that you have worked as a salesman." I nodded, he added,

"I have a small boatyard, with my friend; we are working there. We build wooden boats. They are not very big, less than five meters in length." He drew out a folded paper from his bosom pocket. "Here is all the technical information about her. I have been designed that all myself; I thought that because now we have the `Glasnost´, you know, the age is a bit more informal. If you could find out someone who will be interested in the affair - Of course, you must have your commission. Do you understand that here we haven't any money, and actually we have rubles in use? With them, we can't buy anything." He spoke, explaining his plans. I promised to make inquiries, then I folded the paper and put it in my pocket.

Later in the evening, one of the newcomers, the machine assistant, invited us, the captain, me and the mate, to make a visit to his home. "There my wife will set on the table something special," he said. There was a completely disarming sincerity in this summons so that was impossible refuse it.

About half-past seven o'clock, a car arrived at the side of the ship.

After driving through the town we were in uptown, in the residential area. There was a detached house with a dim yard, and within a circle of a dim light, opposite the house stood the motif for everlasting pride, the sauna.

This grey-painted house was overflowing with hospitality. It was an old house, sort of self-made from pieces of wood; the scene was rural. The wife of the engine assistant stood in the lighted doorway and she welcomed us with a friendly smile and there was an abundance of hospitality. We wined and dined, enjoying the plentiful table. All the time we tried work out how we could find a way to tell, without hurting the master and mistress, that we were thankful for all of the attention and entertainment we had been given. But that yet we would like to get to know the town by night, for, tomorrow there will be workday and the sea. We toasted for the kinsman of the Ugri nation and for unbroken friendship. Finally, the cousin of the machine assistant drove us to the town; there, he, in front the restaurant, squeezed our hands and swore everlasting friendship.

The dance was already running. A loud orchestra was playing and the sound of the soloist rose and fell in the smoky room. Making through the crowd, we managed got a table near a table of a cheerful party. In spite of all of that noise and throng, I could smell the odour of sweat of the waiter.

Just getting started with the first drinks, we were discovered by the party at the other table, and soon were invited by overdramatic gestures to join their jolly company at the long table. Orlov got the seat at the head of the long table. The Big Daddy of this party seemed to be a man who held in his possession the other head of the table. With a hurried gesticulation, he cried beer for everybody.He reached across the table and shook hands with us and introduced himself. His name was Hans and he was also the leader of the 'Combinat.' He was a man in his middle-aged, short and plump like an advertisement of the Micheline tyre.

"Here we are going to start the new life!" he roared, lifting up his vodka glass he demanded us to toast.

Beside me sat a woman "I am a Finn," the woman said. "Believe me, I am a Finn. You know why I live here? I have two children but no a man. My money is not enough for anything. So what, if have? I have nothing to pay. I am a Finn; I belong to Finland."

"We'll make business," said the chief of the Combinat. "The cargo that you will carry to Germany is from our Compinat. Life here is going to change."

"How miserable we have it here," began the Ingrian woman again," I have been visited in Finland; there it is all better than here. I saw how the people live there" She pulled out her passport with reddish cover. "Here, have a look at this passport of the Soviet Republics; there are marked the origins the people. Look here, it isn't in my passport: Finn origin. Why does no one believe me?"

Apo took the passport from the woman's hand and took a glance at it with drunken eyes. "Yes, so here is," he exclaimed.

"I m Estonian and I live on a small island off the coast of Estonian," said the woman at another side of the table.

"Is your husband fisherman?" I asked, but she didn't answer.

"Do you know," the Ingrian woman spoke again. "A few days ago children found a wad of banknotes from the beach. So much money on the beach... What could it be? It's not normal - robbers' money, what else?"

More vodka was brought to the table.

There was a great curiosity in glances given over the table.

"Could we have here something?" asked Apo.

"Try having a dance," I said.

«Children took the money up to the Millise. Was it right? How many months I could have work for that sum?"

Suddenly Orlov straightened himself. He pulled out a bunch of paper rubles and threw the bunch on the table. "If this is all that you need, please take it. We will sail out tomorrow and after that, I won't need this kind of money anymore."

All the party at the table looked the money on the table, then they looked at Orlov and then at the Ingrian woman.

"I cannot take it," the Ingrian woman said. "You are wealthy and you can throw your money, but I cannot take it."

"You all here," Orlov added, "seems to believe that out there in the western countries there live just the wealthy people. I would like to say, Don't believe all of that shit, because of the truth is different; there are plenty of poverty. The people there are no different than the people here. For example; more homeless than I am you seldom see, I haven't even a fixed postal address on the shore."

"But you are the captain, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. Although I have sometimes feeling be more a rescuer of shipwrecks than the captain."

Chapter 11

When I opened my eyes I saw the clock on the bulkhead; it showed eight and I supposed it being morning. I shut my eyes and tried to work out where I was. When I opened my eyes again I saw a thick bunch of electricity cables running along the walls, and there was a small bookshelf, and backs of the books like the Admiral's List of Lighthouses, Baltic Pilot, and the Radio Medical.

Suddenly it dawned on me that I was lying in the bunk of the cabin of the pilot aboard the vessel named Quo Vadis. It was just there where I should be. so it was ok, Except a terrible headache.

I descended into the mess room trying t find some water.

The door into the captain's salon was wide open and from there I overheard vociferous talk. When peeped through the doorway I saw. Orlov sitting at his regular place on the sofa. On the table before him laid some papers. The loading superior stood on the floor and I heard him saying, "The fact is that there wasn't any forklift truck available. The forklift was needed, but as I said, we don't have it."

"But we have an agreement for loading the full cargo up to 1200 tonnes," Orlov snarled.

"With the crane it was impossible. We got just 170 pallets loaded in there, according to the list of a tally," explained the superior. "The cargo hold is full. You should undersign this."

"Bloody damn," Orlov swore.

"Kurat! What to do?" swore the foreman.

"Just want to say that there ought to be the cargo up to1100 tonnes!"

Finally, Orlov accepted the fact that in the cargo hold he had less of a cargo than he had planned.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the Que Vadis took off from the quay and made her way to the sea, bound for West Germany.

Beyond the mouth of the harbour lies the Grey-bearded green beast, ready to tackle the ship.

Chapter 12

It was a terrible night. I couldn't sleep; an ashtray was thrown down to the floor. The whole cabin was rolling heavily from side to side. The clock showed five in the morning; I got dressed and staggered into the wheelhouse. There was Apo on his watch; I I was hurtled at the helmsman by a violent lurch of the ship.

Orlov was standing by the window. "Do not keep this direction?" I heard him saying. "The cargo in the hold is not steady enough."

"No worries," said Apo. "You will hear it if something happens."

There was a violent lurch to port; I could hear how the wave was breaking over the rail to the deck. After that there was an awful reverse rolling movement to starboard, then came a new rush against a huge wave. The deck under our feet didn't roll all the way back. She has heavily tilted to starboard and everyone could hear the deep rumbling sound as the cargo was shifting.

"The helm hard to starboard!" there was the command."We must get her hove up."

Orlov slowed down the engine. " It always does it against the wave. it always happens so. There must be some abrupt movement. Which get the cargo moving" I heard him murmured.

I had a fearful inkling in my mind, something awful and fearsome was going to happen. I stumbled out to the wing of the Command Bridge; the cold wind struck my face like a wet ice-cold rage. Facing the howling wind and empty darkness I stood by the windbreaker, supporting myself against the cold iron rail. The gloomy scene was there down before my eyes; looming out with a weak lustre of the wet iron rails and the hatchway, the brink surfing upon the hostile sea under the sombre overcast winter sky.

The thought to be doomed haunted my mind; under my feet, there was the wet grave for seamen. Such an idea coming in my mind did not improve my momentary state of mind. I tried to stand, seeking the support of the cold rail, unable wholly to accept the translation of dream to reality.

The ship was not more the safe means of transport. She has become a threat, like some menacing unknown object and before so familiar shipboard have changed at once into unfamiliar, and the scene with the damp darkness outside, the wet cold iron, just like gravestones in the moonlight, that all struck into my consciousness, and the ruthless snoring of the main engine made didn't improve the feeling.

Climbing uphill from the bridge's wing into the wheelhouse, I deeply regretted the idea to embarking on such dangerous voyage.

The results of the captain's action was seen

The bow came up into the wind; she shook herself a bit and lay in the head wind, doggie-paddling without making headway.

The crew was gathered on the bridge, wordlessly they got dressed in their life jackets and then, standing quietly in the wheelhouse, swaying themselves along with the ship's motions. I saw the pale countenance of the machine assistant. I had never before seen an expression on a human face like that. It was dull and frozen with fear. He stood and stared somewhere with wide eyes.

Orlov pointed to the life jackets. "For caution, because we don't know what will happen. For safety...nobody knows. If she will go, it will happen quickly."

Captain Orlov picked up the telephone. "Pan. Pan. Pan," he uttered to the radiotelephone, "This is India, Bravo, Alfa, for all stations!" The nearest port which we could hope to find situated on the coast of this unfamiliar Baltic region.

It was in vain; there was no response. There was dead silence only to be heard; we were totally alone.

The captain now addressed the call to the other coastal station.

Five minutes wore on then another five minutes. The radio remains mute.

After three calls there was an unsure sound of a female on the radio waves; she spoke broken English.

"What is your trouble?"

In spite of the severe situation, I thought that there was the word ´problem´ frequently occurring in the verbal expressions of East Europeans, it's so common that all the problems are only one portion of million problems, and there is no one who will take seriously this well-worn word.

The captain spoke, explaining the situation for awhile; he asked to have an escort to make the nearest port. The answer was silence; there was the hum of the radio waves only. Then from under the hum could hear the same monotonous sound of a woman again, "What is your problem?" she asked over again.

Orlov held the receiver in his hand and turned to us. "Someone know Russian ?"

"I do," said Preeku. Orlov gave the phone to him. "Tell them we will make a port, and require escorting while we get there."

The AB spoke to the radio then he hung up the phone.

"So what?" asked Orlov.

"They will make a connection to somewhere; I don't know where," said Preetu.

Suddenly the wheelhouse was full of the noise of the communications; there were several stations in air at the same time.

"What they are going to do now?" inquired Orlov.

"They're talking it over," Pretu said.

Half an hour passed and nothing happened.

At dawn the surrounding sea came in sight, Orlov repaired to about Que Vadis with her heavy list, to be hearing to the nearest port. During the veering, she swung just a little, and then she took steady as she goes on her new course.

The seas came now from aft; the increasing of the daylight dismissed the feeling of disaster. I heard Orlov pondering aloud, "I don't now if there is possible to continue the voyage," he murmured. "During the day of the steamers, the ships were slanting by the weight of the deck cargoes, already before her departure. But it was natural and under control, not like this. We don't know how much the cargo has moved. And it could move even more. There are empty bottom tanks," he added. "It means that there is three hundred tonnes buoyancy. If this vessel goes down, she will land in the seabed upside down. So, it's better to seek shelter."

With the slow engine running, we headed for the nearest port. The first coastal region that appeared in sight was a flat treeless strip of land.

At noon, near the mouth of the outer port, the pilot made his boarding. The pilot was a tight-lipped taciturn man. He steered the ship inside the mole. We saw three people there on the quay awaiting our arrival: there was a female agent with two men; one of them was a soldier.

thy stood motionless waiting the gangway was lowered down then got in single file, the female first on board.

The gruff female agent made into the salon bearing a portfolio under her right arm. She made fast progress with her high heels. At first, she demanded the captain to make an application for the haven. And to the question of the crane, " The female said. " You thinks we have been waiting for your call in this port with our canes stand by, If you think so, you are wrong, we haven' any cane for handling your cargo".

When the wench and the fellow were gone to the shore, a sentry was set to guarding over the gangway.

We were once again secured at a jetty. If there was any disappointment among the crew for this delay, they didn't show any demonstration for it.

The day went by and by the next day's evening, when I was returning to the ship from shore, I came into an anxious officer of the Borden guard at the gate of the harbour; he was clearly angry. He looked at me. "There is going to be some harm," he said.

I hasten my pace; already from a distance, I could see that the ship's position had changed; her side had risen and the whole ship was inclined outward. There was a steady blow of the wind and the boom of the breaking waves. With regular intervals, waves lifted and lowered the ship behind the edge of the pier, the weathers side of the ship was out of the water like a part of the brink of a sinking hulk.

All hands were busy on the deck, pulling out the cable ropes. Broken mooring ropes were replaced with new ones.

I found Orlov standing on deck, wearing a green anorak coat. He smoked his constant cigarette, and at once I saw that he was in good spirits.

"You see!" he said when he saw me coming. "Here the waves are beating the ship against the pier for just an hour, and the cargo has shifted more and it looks like she will capsize here by the jetty. Perhaps it could be best. Thank for our initiative."

He was clearly pleased to been right about the situation. "We'll see if it won't wake a little bit an action."

Early in the morning came a tugboat taking us into the inner dock.

On the same day, the cargo hatches were opened and a crane began to lift the cargo out.

At the table, for afternoon coffee Ula examined the list of a German ship-chandler. The lists of ship-chandlers were objects of more interest for him than anything else. Actually, he spent all his leisure time examining these lists, smoking all the time his bad smelling `Bellmore` cigarettes and was waiting the day when the ship would get underway and arrive in Germany. Always when the occasion was offered, he tormented me or the mate with his inquiries: How much will this or that cost in the Germans shops and how much would it make in dollars His daydream was to get a welding machine. "When I will have `Kemppi,`" he said, "There will be no more troubles with my personal economics, not anymore. I could repair the cars of my neighbours and earn some money. Pretu laughed at Ula´s faith in the German wonderland. "All will be in order when we will arrive in Germany," he joked.

"Look here, Pretu!" said Orlov, "You know the language and the customs here. I am hoping that you could act as liaison officer between the ship and the shore bastards. To-morrow we will need the timber for supporting the cargo. You could ask them ashore where from we could find the cheapest. They could not deceive us so much then. Would you be like some kind of ´Polistruck´ Wasn't there such a man on your previous ship?"

"Yes, there was. We called them `Popolo´."

"You are now appointments as the political officer." Apo giggled, he had opened a bottle, "For that glory, we propose a toast. One man ashore told me that there is the seaman club there near the dock."

"But try to keep in mind that tomorrow is working day," Orlov reminded.

The doormen of the seamen club gave a glance at the unshaven essence of Orlov and at his faded coat. Olov was attired in jerseys and in his green coat which gave him out look like a down-and-out fisherman. The red-necked doorman watched at Orlov's rough clothes that smacked of the sea and of the ship and wanted to know whether Orlov was from some ship or not because for others than the seamen the club was closed. When we entered, the doorman glanced after us once more with great suspicion. But Captain Orlov didn't so much care for the way the doorman surveyed him.

The club was full of seamen. They were from the vessels of the harbour, mostly Soviet Russians. There in the corner of the room sat a group of bluejacket Russian deck officers. They had female company and there were sitting at a table a frivolous party with their brass buttons shining.

The opposite table was full of Dutch crew, lads from a Dutch ship. there was a black fellow whom I at once recognised as a sea-cook and was bringing from his ship a full dish of sandwiches; the sandwiches looked good and was made with skilful hands. "The line shipping men," said Apo. He seemed clear all about the port. "We also could have taken something with us," he added.

"What do you think we have there onboard? Some frozen chickens maybe, and, of course, Baltic herring; we could have taken a herring here," asked Orlov.

Pretu burst out laughing for the idea. "Well," he said, "In the Soviet Union no one eats herring. Nobody wants looks poor. In Estonia, the people formerly ate ´vasbuk´, but the Soviets don't eat herring. Didn't you see there at the doorway, the doorman didn't want to admit the skipper here; the doorman took the skipper as some kind of `Hanurick`, a homeless drunk, who can't have at work anywhere afloat, such a man. It's the Russian habit."

"You would have to be dressed in a brass-buttoned coat with polished shoes. Just like the officer man." Apo said. The was a woman, lively woman around thirty-five of her age, Orlov was saying something to the woman sitting at the table little apart, I didn't overhear what Orlov was saying but clearly what the woman was saying: " I 'm too expensing to you. What the hell I thought, a woman on the edge of the total turmoil of the SSR in a shabby club a woman saying to the master of a foreign going ship who wore green anorak." I,m too expenses to you". What she ever mean by that it sounded quite absurd.

The new loading and stowing was carried on next day and.

Immediately behind the street, by the harbour, on the first floor of the grey blockhouse, was the bureau of the Inflot - shipping. There was an agent, dressed in a grey suit, a pompous minor officer of the KGB.

I asked to use the telephone to make a phone call.

"No way," the man said roughly. "We don't have the bank security from your charter company. without that, we cannot do anything for you."

In the next morning, Apo showed his head in the doorway of the pilot's cabin. "The planks have come onboard," he said. "Will you come along to the voluntary work?"

I got up. I knew that after the task we would finally go to the sea, to get

move on.

All the day we worked hard in the cargo hold. The wood was grey by the weathers and their firmness was weak, but there was no other choice at hand.

The day wore on and a little before evening, when the work was completed, Orlov took a view into the cargo hold. "All's done for the cargo now; I want to get rid of all this." It sounded like an epitaph then gave a command to close the hatches.

There in the narrow dock, between of the high structures of the inner port and at the shadow of the surrounding ships' hulls, the wind seem to be weak.

The weather forecast has gone without been heard. We made for the sea before midnight. The pilot came on board, soon after the ropes were cast off; we drove with by guiding of the pilot, up the river we went, towards the open.

The pilot was little dry uptight of man; he simply shouted out the commands to the helmsman. He was a Latvian and he felt proud about that. Between the commands to the helm, he told us how his son had treated by Russian-speaking people in the shop while demanding to get service in the Latvian language.

"So big boy, and not speaking Russian," the salesperson had said. "Can you imagine? My son, Latvian by birth, in his own country and not allowed speak in a shop by his own language."

After this saying, the pilot began to shout a command to the helmsman in Russian. "Briema! Leava!" he cried out his commands.

The sound of the breaking waves carried up to the bridge. and when the bows came between the apertures of the moles, the spatters started pattering against the windows of the wheelhouse, The pilot buttoned his coat up and took his bag.

"I will leave here," he pointed out to the beacon buoy.

"Take her around the buoy. After that, your can set you course where you want." He hurried below where the pilot boat already quaked against the side of the ship.

We set the course for the south.

Chapter 13

Well rested I woke from my bed nex morning. In the mess room, I met the other able seaman, who was called Ivar; he was a tall man with a dandy moustache; the engine assistant was with him.

I picked up a cup and joined the company.

They were engrossed in the list of the provisions to get in Germany. When they saw me coming they laid the list down.

The sea was nearly calm, just here and there was seen little grey waves lifting their crests.

"What do you think? Should the ship stay there in Germany to lie out?" the o/s asked. I told them that I did not know, but I thought that the ship would need a lot of repairs.

They began to count how much money they would have. They decided that the money would be enough for a leather coat and sportswear.

The Apo's watch began at noon. I went up the bridge as well. The captain bowed over the navigation chart and made his notes in the logbook. The ship rode easily, rolling slowly from side to side through the grey water.

The wider range brought on the radar screen the edge of the coast of Cortland the device was displaying up two pips of the unknown ships.

"There is the tip of the southern Cortland and there are large ships on their way to the south," Apo explained.

I went out to the wing of the bridge; Apo stayed beside me. "Some years ago," he began to tell, "it was a time when I served as an A/B; I had a watch with the mate on the bridge. It happened somewhere here in this same area. It was a rough dark night. Suddenly the mate asked me if I could to see the same thing as he sees in the water. Yes, I saw it, there was a large area of the sea illuminated by some undersea object. It was an eerie undersea light; it wasn't any crapulent illusion; it was the real thing and it really happened."

"What it was?" I asked.

"A submarine," said Orlov; he had readied the logbook notes and stood now in the doorway of the wheelhouse. " the sub must have been in raising, I could have been a rising submarine; they will illuminate the surface above when they are coming up to surface. When the submarine is submerged at a depth of about twenty meters, the beam of the searchlight shows on the surface as a luminous circular patch of ill-defined limits. It's nice to know it when you are at sea. Keep off the area; don't believe that they are able to know that you are above them. Better keep away and give way to them. The Swedes are making noise about the Soviet submarines, but one could say that it is a storm in a teacup; at the sea, the submarines are much more dangerous then there off the coast of Sweden. How many fishing boats have they jerked and damaged their nets? Well, little about that has been informed. There is a middle depth of less than a hundred meters in the Baltic and the North Sea. As I know, the most common towing cables of the tugs are a length of about three or four thousand and at a hundred feet, a cable like this will sink down and swim at about a hundred feet under the sea's surface; it means that the submarine could hear the noise of the tug's screw revolution, but do not see the towing cable and the barge. So they can become very worried. And as everyone knows, there in the Russian old model submarine, there is a lot of spirits for the apparatus cleansing. The officers used to drink it up all the time. I will only advise keeping away from the track of the Russian warships."

Pretu stood at the helm; he overheard the speech of the captain.

"Yes," he said. "All in the Soviet Union there are large-minded. I remember it happened once on my home island. One day we saw a group coming with their stuff. They began to build the railway. The railway on the island, people wondered. When the group worked a week, they then vanished with their stuff. The group with all the stuff had landed in the wrong place. The similar name of the place was confused them; the right place was situated in Siberia."

"You see, there is anything might happen," Orlov said and went below.

It seemed to me that the captain exaggerated his subject of the submarines, but after reconsidering the course of events, all sounded truthful.

The clock was just at six in the afternoon. The grey of the day had turned to blackness. We drove on the due south. Within an hour the coast of Sweden rose in sight.

Orlov came on the bridge.

"Bad news," Apo greeted him with a fresh weather report. Orlov walked through the wheelhouse.

"Well."

"A gale is coming. The northern, force 9."

"It's from Aft. It 's the company's wind then,"

At eight o'clock in the evening, a wind got up; after an hour more, and soon it was blowing with full strength. The waves came now from the aft; they lifted the aft body of the ship and the buzzed in the scuppers. The salty spatters hurtled from the aft to the foredeck. I noticed that Apo's expression was more tense than usual. He was an off duty; however, he stayed there on the bridge.

The helmsman's correction for the course was a number of rotations of the wheel, to the left and to the right.

"Hellish to drive so, the wind and waves there at aft; it's a hard job for the helmsman," Apo murmured, watching over the black sea. "Every time's the same; when you get into a tailwind, it means hard work for the steering."

One doesn't need to be gullible to believe that there is something evil in the darkness.

Although the technology had given people a good sight in the darkness with many technical accessories, they are unable to dispossess the evil away. Outside every illuminated circle, the evil stays and lurks for an opportunity. Almost all the serious disasters at sea happen at night, in the darkness, doesn't have to be superstitious for believing that there in the dark sea, there exists something like a supernatural evil.

Before midnight the full gale was blowing. The wind howled and the sea rushed. The navigation's lights heeled deep down over from side to side; the waves dashed the past with showing alternately red and green.

Orlov examined the night around. I asked him when the gallop before the wind must end and turn the ship to the new direction.

"We can't do it. The braces could break in the cargo hold; it could be the end all of us." He went to the chart table. "We will drive now so the wind and waves are behind us. There we will get into a lee, off the coast of East Germany. There we can try changing the course. Let's turn on the light, ship out of command!" he said to Apo. "The others vessels must keep away."

A ferry with her illumined row of windows was crossing in front of us, on her way to East Germany. We watched as she made in the heavy sea, her lights shone and sparkling from on the slopes of the black waves.

Then there was a light of an approached ship on the starboard quarter; there was seen the mast light of vessel. She was still far away but was approaching. The two mast lights converged upon the dark sea. There was nothing else in sight on this side of the sea except this unknown vessel. We were well outside of the main

lane of shipping and this lonely rover seemed been lost.

The vessel grew rapidly closer; she was approaching us from the blind side of the starboard lantern. Orlov glanced in the direction of the vessel. After half an hour the mast lights of the unknown vessel were swinging high over the dark horizon. The distance was now about two miles. "The mate on watch may be dropped below picking up a cup of coffee; soon the situation would be corrected. " Orlov said.

But the ship's point was about a mile away; without any precaution, the ship probably would have come to a collision.

We were on the bridge, staring at the rising and falling bow of the unknown ship. It was a huge axe, ready to fall.

"Find me the `Aldis´!" Orlov shouted to Apo.

Apo gave him the lamp. Five flashes ran over the dark water, then five more. Nothing happened. In the gleam of the lamp, we could read the name of the unknown ship. "She is Ladoka, Russian," said Apo.

"By VHF. Perhaps they are listening."

After the third call, there was an answer by the VHF radio.

Although the range was now so that a human voice would reach from the ship to another, the noise on the VHF radio was weak like a message sent behind the globe and had travelled thousand and thousand miles. The words came slowly through the receiver set.

Someone spoke slowly somewhere, it was broken in unrecognisable English, and all the time the object grew closer.

Just when it was quite sure that the collision would be inevitable, the huge axe began to draw away.

The VHF radio resuscitated again; there was a conversation between two ships.

"What, now?" Orlov asked.

Pretu listened attentively for a moment at the helm.

"There had been some inexperienced third mate on the bridge; now the captain has come up."

We arrived in at dawn and we did it in the real weather of the Lord, with a crew exhausted after all toiling of the night. The lash held; nothing had gotten loose in the cargo hold.

On the following morning, I was accompanied by Orlov walking in the windy street to the office of the agent, where a young girl informed us that the Que Vadis would be offered for sale; all the crewmen of the ship will be pay off.

The uncertainty of the future bothered the crew and there was tight atmosphere aboard.

I came across Ula in the doorway; he stopped by with an angry expression on his face. I heard he says over his shoulder to the mess room where the others were sitting: "Kurat! Damn! They will do the same for us as they had done to the Poles. They will send us home with the wages not pay." When he noticed me, his expression turns embarrassed and he turned away.

Captain Orlov has closed himself in his captain's cabin; he did not participate in anything. The mate Apo cast hope to the Estonian mariners, which he had begun to call the Viro-boys. It was a nickname which was given to the Estonian volunteer corps, which had joined the Finn-Russo war fifty ears ago. "Of course, we will get all our wages pay. I am sure that will be all right." So he explained every time when the atmosphere in the mess room felt melancholy.

It was December and the Christmas was coming. People were crowding in the slushy streets. On one afternoon Orlov received the wages for the crew; immediately he paid their salary. Ula got his welding generator, which he had talked so much about. He was dragging the heavy generator along the street all the way to ship.

I got booked a berth on the same ferry as the crew travelled to Helsinki. The Ro and Rol ferry were new and the departure was in the morning. The ferry was large and was riding high of the water; there was an extensive dining room onboard, and the lights shone brightly all over the ferry. Our crew, with depressed mood, moved slowly in the bar and in the dining room. There were not many passengers on board few middle-aged persons and a person with the manner of a clergy. In privacy I stood at the large window, watching down to the sea below, where a small tanker made her way with difficulty, beating against the reverse wind. I could imagine how different it could be there. The deck on which I now stood felt firm and dry. Instead, down there aboard a small vessel, to be close the waves, there is an entirely different world. You are lying in you bunk getting no sleep as the ship struggles her way through heavy weather. You can hear the moaning of the hull around as your ship slams and shakes. Then you felt in your bones that the ship has not straightened from the last roll. Then you begin to seek a refuge to give you shelter, and all that is just work, conventional work at sea. Daily fatiguing duty in dim lights and in the constantly smell of diesel oil and human sweat. There are seamen, in their cramped cabins, when wages were cut down and the living condition reduced on board

to barely human levels, they still stay there living in that old hope that even the worse storm blows itself out and there will be the sun again in sight.

Upon we arriving in Helsinki, the white city was covered with snow and there were the tight-lipped immigrant police waiting for the Viro- boys. They were afraid of getting the black stamp in their passports. "If we got the black stamp in our passports, we'll never get out of the Estonia," said Preetu.

"Is the whole world going crazed?" Orlov exclaimed. "There is not need any visa for the sailor. There is the Seaman book with the rule.

The ship owner came over, driving by his brilliant car and there in the passenger terminal he began to pay the lacking salaries. "We will not hire the revolution's men anymore," he said angrily and closed his bag. This exclamation sounded so naive that it made me burst into loud laughter.

The police looked with worry to the Estonian boys. "I will say that Today Mister Scevarnatce has left his official position as The Foreign Minister of the Soviet Union. We don't know what there is going on."

The end