Section Two – pages 9-17. Journal entries in italics, otherwise these are memories.
Elevator call buttons showing deck names
Elevator call buttons showing deck names
Other than that, how they addressed each other was something I more or less missed. At least once I heard the captain call the Chief Officer, Chief, but this wasn’t until I had finally memorized several first names (on the 3rd or 4th day). I hope they were not offended by this familiarity; no one seemed to be, especially when I applied the name to the correct person.
It took me a few days for my adrenaline to drop, and to gain some sense of the very simple layout of the ship, but I will explain it here for you now.
The superstructure is the part of the
ship that sticks up above the hull. On the 18-year-old
The mess (dining room) and the cabins (the rooms these men call home) all face the front of the ship. Rooms off the other side of this hallway would all face the stern. But most of them are not really rooms at all, just storage closets. One large closet was a library. It had shelves holding some magazines and a collection of books, many of them short books designed for young men with low reading skills. All the reading materials I saw were in English.
As I was saying, Aniceto took me down to the First Cabin Deck. This is the main deck, the deck at the top of the hull, and therefore it is outdoors. We walked its entire length, a loop around the ship. The containers are stacked 4 layers above this deck, obliterating the view from all front or back windows in the superstructure below the Fifth Cabin Deck. Hence, my cabin, on the fifth cabin deck, had a front facing window with a fine view (of containers and ocean). The Captain and Chief Engineer have corner cabins on this same deck. Chief Engineer’s cabin is on the port side; the Captain’s is an entire suite, on the starboard side. They each have unobstructed views forward as well as to the side of the ship.
Containers were not only stacked on the deck beside us, but the array extended right over our heads to line up with the ship’s exterior hull. Fortunately, I wasn’t really aware of the triple-high stack over our heads at the time; I noticed only that it was a covered passageway Aniceto and I walked along as we looped the ship’s perimeter. A covered passageway with a view.
Crew & Equipment
We walked aft first where there was a layer of wide open deck (though still below stacks of containers) and the engine noise dominated everything. Many windlasses filled with rope were ready for tying the ship to a wharf. The ropes were six inches in diameter and the coils as tall as me and more. Each coil probably a minimum of 6 feet high by 8 feet across. The noise drove us away and up the other side of the ship. I met the ship’s electrician, a young man repairing a light fixture. Later we passed a group of seaman scraping paint in preparation for more, and then the room labeled “paint store” where many stacks of 5 gallon cans lay in wait for them.
Safety equipment is everywhere. Firemen’s suits, labeled Chemical Suits, are ready to be stepped into. Canisters the size of oil barrels hold life rafts. Picture instructions with English text show how you clip it to the ship, then throw it into the water. It inflates automatically. Fully loaded with mariners presumably, it gets pulled down beneath the sea as the ship sinks, but then will break free and float to the surface. Boarding one would be an act of faith, but in distress at sea, I have observed that kind of faith is easy to come by.
There are also immersion suits, just in case you’re on your own when the end comes. The illustrations for their use make them look bulky and warm. It is not just that death comes rapidly in any water much cooler than body temperature°, but help comes very slowly as the vast expanse is traversed and then searched.
While the EEBD boxes are seen almost everywhere on board, most of this equipment I have seen is on the main deck, under the shelter of the upper bow deck. It is here that various oil spill cleanup materials are also kept.
Back inside the superstructure
Back inside the superstructure we walked past the infirmary (that place I wasn’t sick enough to need) which was locked up tight, so I never got to see in. On the floor above it, Aniceto showed me the high-ceiled gymnasium with a tall wall of windows that look out across the sea. This is on the Public Deck and in a small port-side wing of the superstructure. It contains only a ping pong table (tied in place to the floor), a dart board, and some weight lifting benches. But after some snooping I found closet full of musical equipment and other odds and ends. Outside this wall of windows is one of the two large red-orange and seriously enclosed, lifeboats.
Nearby was the laundry room the crew used. A handful of washing machines and dryers gathered from round the world, they were clearly purchased in whatever port the ship had been in when the previous one failed, and their operating instructions presented a variety of languages and styles. This room, above all others, showed this ship to be occupied by a bunch of men, and working men at that. Oily overalls draped freely amidst a clatter trap of laundry machines and an unswept floor. Of all the rooms totally available to me, it was the only room I chose not to explore. I laughed at myself for averting my eyes whenever I walked by it on my way to the gym. I think I was afraid I might go in and try to clean it.
There is also a huge crane that is used to carry supplies and equipment aboard the ship. I have a picture of it, but can’t remember where I was on the ship when Aniceto showed it to me, and now can’t even imagine where it could be located. Probably it was directly aft of the superstructure.
After seeing all the outside marvels, and these many interior rooms of the superstructure, Aniceto offered to take me to where I had been brought aboard. This was only yesterday, but seems like a week ago. He took me down one more level to the Mid Deck, also known as Upper Deck. This is the muster station, where we would all gather in case of an emergency.
Aniceto enjoyed giving me this tour. He was friendly and seemed happy to wait while I gawked and took pictures. It was he who thought to take my camera away from me long enough that I could have a picture of myself going up one of the ladders used the day before. I do wish I had been thinking enough to take his picture next to the spare anchor.
I had asked Aniceto about going into the engine room before we started on this tour, and he told me that the Engineer said no, because I would need ear protection and better shoes. But then, as the tour ended, he opened a doorway to a catwalk above the engine and we snuck in briefly to hear and see a second tantalizing sample, confirming that yesterday’s experience was not an hallucination.
Wednesday, August 24
I took about 70 pictures in my one and a quarter hour tour.[And made a few drawings in my journal that might sometime illustrate this story.]
Lunch, dinner, breakfast, and now lunch again. Look at all those meals, one right after another, in a pattern! Such a change after our sporadic meals on the sailboat. The food is good and overabundant. I need to be careful to not eat so much.
The motor vibrates through the ship. It vibrates my bed and body, but did not keep me from a perfect night’s sleep. I wish I’d brought my bed pillow from the sailboat though; I have a crick in my neck from this large foam pillow. I must think I’m a princess to complain about such a small thing.
I sent an email message to Joe this morning using the captain’s email account. I had hoped to go to AOL.com, but a security code seems to be needed to get onto the internet so I haven’t tried beyond the initial attempt.
I wrote a maybe-publishable version of why not to do what I did. The second half -- landing in heaven -- is still to be written.
On the Bridge again
It costs $20,000 per day for fuel for this ship. And roughly $5000 per day for crew and food operating expenses. Cargo is valued at many hundreds of millions of dollars. The captain tells me the loss of several containers by another ship a couple of years ago was valued at $200 million.
says he is responsible for the $4800 daily operating expenses via the German
operating company (
Second Officer, on the bridge. The instrument panels shown in the photo
above get screened off from the front windows at night by the green and
gray curtains on the right.
Manuel, the Second Officer, on the bridge. The instrument panels shown in the photo above get screened off from the front windows at night by the green and gray curtains on the right.
lights that shine out onto the water all around the ship are not visible from
the bridge. Otherwise they would ruin the watch’s night vision, and make it
impossible to see any other ships’ lights. These illuminating lights are called
Pirate Lights. I saw them labeled on a board of switches on the bridge earlier
today. I hoped at first it was the L and R confusion Asians are often accused
of, and that it was a case of mislabeled Pilot lights. But no, they really are
to discourage pirates; when it is dark, pirates can sneak on board more
readily. There is also a map, up here on the bridge, of the
I just set my clock ahead one hour; we are traveling east.
Thursday, August 25
morning I missed breakfast and went up to the bridge to find coffee and a
cookie. After a while Captain Pajkuric came up and was happy to ask me more
questions. “How come the
truly seems to want to hear about
agreed how much a family spends on food costs depends on how much prepared
foods you buy. Not exactly an astounding observation, but more evidence that we
all have a lot in common – including a full array of prepared foods. This is
not something we had in common with the good folks we met in