In the evening, tranquility crawled back from the shadows as the car graveyard stood still and reminded us not to smoke cigarettes in the car trunk. A provision truck came with food and beverages for our ship. The ship's main deck was high, and we used a crane to lift pallets of provisions from the shore. The Cook checked out the food on the pallets and told us what type of food goes where.
At one moment, the Cook said to me, "This is not what I ordered; throw it back to them."
I took two big and heavy crates of frozen squids from his hands and said, "Ok, on the next pallet I'll send it down."
The Cook grabbed the crates from my hands and screamed in my face, "I told you to throw it back to them. What part of throw it don't you understand!"
I was speechless and confused by his actions, but the Cook walked to the ship's railing[1] and literally threw the frozen squid crates down as he screamed, "Here, you eat that car tire, motherfucker!"
I leaned on the railing and saw a truck driver dodging the falling squid crates. Within seconds, squid were scattered all over the truck and the port. The driver pointed his middle finger and shouted something. The Cook pulled out a big kitchen knife from somewhere and waved it around.
The Cook screamed, "I better not see you again. I will cut your balls next time, you piece of shit."
The Cook turned to me, pointed the knife at my face, and asked, "When I say throw it down next time, what will you do?"
His eyes looked calm. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but I replied, "I will throw it down."
The Cook said, "And don't forget, aim for the motherfucker. These fuckers give us dog food and charge it for the real thing. Here, look at this meat. It was packed eight years ago from across the world. That fat fuck, I want to see him eat this shit."
The Cook continued to swear and wave his knife as he made his way to the kitchen. Once he was far enough away, I cracked open the package of old meat. Inside, there was just a big hunk of ice with some meat buried deep within it. It looked more like a tourist lost on Mount Everest than something edible.
The next day, port operations resumed. We loaded cars in a lower garage named lower deck one.
Chief handed me an ice cream and winked at me as he said, "Instead of morning coffee…way better…you will have no problems with your stomach."
We noticed the lower garage was almost full.
Chief said to a crewmember who lashed cars, "Mike…on lower deck two…wait for my signal on VHF. I'll let you know when…lower platform is secured. You understand…no cars on lower deck two until…I give the OK."
The last few cars entered lower deck one. Mike nodded at Chief and walked up the platform.
Chief said to me, "Stay here and…help me out. After the platform gets up…watch the lock mechanism. Here…use this VHF to speak to me."
Chief handed me a portable VHF radio and walked far away to the control box. The sound of the turbine power appeared with an echo through the garage.
I heard Chief, who said on the portable VHF radio, "Pump one on…platform rising up."
The platform moved, tearing at my ears with the sound of metal squeaks, reminiscent of old movies where ships sink and metal bends and cracks. Slowly, the platform rose to the top and settled into place with a clank.
Chief said on the portable VHF radio, "The locks on the ramp…are closed?"
I looked below the ramp and said on the portable VHF radio, "No, they are open."
The clank noise appeared again, and Chief said on the portable VHF radio, "And now?"
I said on the portable VHF radio, "Still open."
Chief said on the portable VHF radio, "Bucket of bolts…alright…I'll turn on the second pump for a few seconds to lock it. We can't use the second pump too much because the hydraulic pipes will crack and start leaking around."
The sound of a second turbine echoed through the garage. It felt like we were in a jumbo jet. I heard the clank noise.
Chief said, "Now?"
I said on the portable VHF radio, "Nope, it seems you would have to raise the platform a little bit more. I think the locks are just banging on the platform."
Chief said on the portable VHF radio, "The handle is in the up position…hmm…I'll try to lower it a little and raise it up again."
The platform lowered down, and I saw car tires on it. It seems cars are parked on the platform and lashed since the lashing started to break off.
I screamed on the portable VHF radio, "Chief, stop, stop, there are cars on the platform!"
The platform stopped, and the sound from one of the pumps faded out.
Captain Hobo screamed on the portable VHF radio, "Cars! Cars on the platform! Chief, you idiot! You will break the ramp; we will drown; you will kill us."
Chief came closer to me and looked at the platform.
Suddenly, Captain Hobo popped up in front of us and screamed, "How old are you? Ten, huh? You imbecile, look at this—you broke it, we are finished, you are finished. Two pumps, I heard you, two pumps. The hydraulics almost exploded. Million-dollar damage…"
Chief tried to speak, but Captain Hobo was unstoppable. I tried to speak but failed big time since I got verbally spanked for daring to open my mouth.
Captain Hobo shouted at me, "What, what, where were you? Probably jerking off. Do you see this? We just lost the ramp. If we go to sea and penetrate the hull, we will all die. DIE! You'll remember my words, before you die."
On the portable VHF radio, the 2nd Mate said, "Captain, Port authorities are on board."
The Captain stopped with his screams and vanished from our sight in a second. I never saw such a person before in my life. Chief looked all sad with deep thoughts. I felt sad for Chief as he didn't do anything wrong.
I climbed up to lower deck two and saw a few cars approaching me. I stopped the cars and said to the first driver, "I need to speak to the man in charge."
The driver noted he didn't understand, so I said, "Boss. Yes. Call Boss." I moved my hand to gesture him to come closer and said, "Boss."
The driver walked away, and soon a shadowy figure came closer to me and said, "Speak bad your language. Me foreman for loader team."
I explained to him with hands and feet that he needed to move cars so we could close lower deck one. The foreman for the loader team nodded and said, "No problem."
In a few seconds, the platform was clean. Chief looked at me all confused. I made a gesture for him to raise the platform. Chief nodded at me and smiled. Soon, the platform was lifted to the correct position and locked. The last pump sound faded out.
Chief climbed up, gave me an ice cream, and said, "You did all this…good job…and guess what—the platform works… it is even locked."
Mike said, "Chief, the boy addressed the foreman. Can you imagine the arrogance, doing your job?"
Chief said to Mike, "At least Jack did something…while you screwed me over. Get away from my sight."
A few hours later, the ship prepared to leave the port, and Captain Hobo screamed on the portable VHF radio, "Chief! Chief, where are you? We must depart now."
Chief took it easy. He climbed up the steps and smiled. He said to me, "Remember…no rush. It will get you killed one day."
We reached the aft part of the ship and stood at our positions. Captain Hobo screamed something from the bridge, but no one reacted because we didn't understand him.
Captain Hobo screamed from the portable VHF radio, "Let go all lines[2]!"
Chief shook his head and released all lines. The port workers took all our lines from the port bitts and threw them in the sea. Our ship sped up while the lines were still in the sea. The winches were slow, so it was just a matter of time before one of those lines would be sucked in by the ship's propeller.
Captain Hobo screamed on the portable VHF radio, "Use your hands to pull it up!"
I tried to pull the big line with my hands, but I wasn't sure who was pulling—me or the line. I managed, with some help, to get the lines up by hand. I thought to myself, "Why use the winch and hydraulics when you can use hands, right?"
Chief took me down to lower deck two and showed me the bosun[3], who shoved cloth rags all around the ramp located on the hull.
I asked the Chief, "What is he doing?"
Chief smiled and said, "He is plugging the ramp holes with…cloth before applying cement."
I said, "Cement?"
Chief said, "Yeah…this way, on the sea voyage, we won't…take too much water inside."
I was confused and said, "Really, but what do you mean, take too much?"
Chief laughed and said, "It will still leak water, and…one crewmember will always sit here mopping up the water and…looking at the cement patches."
I laughed and did a facepalm.
Chief said, "Maybe now…you will understand the Captain panicking…he probably thought how this ramp will leak into lower deck one, and…we will sink."
I said, "The Captain knows about this?"
Chief smiled and said, "Of course."
At the next port, our ship discharged its cargo. The port drivers drove the cars like they were on a racing track, burning tires and engines on brand new cars. They pulled handbrakes here and there just to spin the cars for fun, with high RPMs all the way. All this made me realize, do we really buy new cars, or in fact, do we buy burnout cars? Over time, these wannabe racers finished unloading all the cars from the decks. I was standing near the 2nd Mate.
Chief came closer and said, "Second mate…go on the upper deck and…put cones near the exit. We must be careful…that one of these guys…doesn't miss the floor exit."
The 2nd Mate nodded to the Chief, and the Chief left our company. I looked above the main deck exit and saw the upper deck exit.
The 2nd Mate said to me, "The upper deck can also be used as an exit. The ramp can be set on the main or upper deck, but we rarely do that."
I asked, "Chief wants you to put cones up there?"
The 2nd Mate said, "Yeah, we have two old chewed-up cones. They are useless."
I said, "Only two. Why don't you order more?"
The 2nd Mate chuckled and said, "Order! Be lucky you get toilet paper and some food. As for the rest, the company will never send it. Sometimes I wonder how this ship even floats."
A female foreman walked by, and someone shouted behind us, "Fresh pussy! Did you see that, boys, just like a peach? I bet when you bite, she squirts with juice. Pussy, come here, pussy!" The female foreman lowered her head and walked quickly.
The 2nd Mate and I turned around and saw a crewmember from the engine department. He was a tall and lean man with a sharp chin and cheeks, piercing hunter eyes, and a hawk-like nose that gave him a menacing and formidable look. His short, dark hair was matted with sweat and grease, adding to his rough and unkempt appearance. His clothes were perpetually stained with oil and grime, and his hands were calloused and dirty from years of hard labor in the engine room. He smiled with brownish teeth and grabbed his balls.
I said, "From what planet are you?"
The Greaser said to me, "What, you gay? Don't you like pussy, huh? No wonder, look at you. I bet you didn't even see pussy."
The 2nd Mate said, "Hey, grease monkey, how long have you been on board already?"
The Greaser tightened his jaw and said, "Who you calling grease monkey? I work all day and night for six months. There isn't a cleaner engine in the whole fleet. And what do you do? Huh, sunbathe your balls all this time, right?"
The 2nd Mate said, "Tell me, Mr. Company Man, what is the brand name of the ship's main engine?"
The Greaser looked around, absolutely furious, and stormed back down to the engine compartment.
The 2nd Mate laughed like crazy and said, "Did you see that idiot? He doesn't even know the engine name…I bet he doesn't even know what pussy looks like. A lot of people with low brain functions or borderline insanity are here, all relatives to company agents."
Our attention was drawn to the upper deck as a car engine revved. In an instant, a car flew over our heads, crashed front-first onto the dock, and then tumbled back onto the ship ramp. It felt like a scene from a movie set, not reality.
The 2nd Mate used his portable VHF radio and said, "We have a situation on the main ramp. A car just landed from the upper deck."
The female foreman approached the scene, and the 2nd Mate helped the crazy driver get out of the crashed car. The driver wannabe looked okay, just some cuts and bruises. Luckily for him, the airbag didn't deploy. He probably won't do stunts like that again in the near future. Captain Hobo appeared and screamed for blood and the Chief's head.
Chief came, and Captain Hobo screamed at him, "Fired! Fired! You are fired! This was the last time. Get out, get out!"
Chief didn't say a word. He just looked at the car and the upper deck. Then, he glanced at the 2nd Mate and walked away. Halfway to the door, he threw the portable VHF radio on the floor before finally entering the superstructure. A crowd gathered around.
I overheard the 2nd Engineer, who said to the motorman, "We are leaking oil. Go tell them to turn on the main engine and set the propeller to rotate slowly."
The motorman disappeared quickly, and soon the main engine was running. I looked over the ramp and saw the sea swirling, with oil slowly disappearing beneath the surface. The police and paramedics arrived. I pieced together what the port authorities and Captain Hobo were saying, despite the multilingual chaos. It was concluded that the Chief was responsible for the incident, and the company had to compensate the wannabe driver. The car was eventually scraped off the ramp with a forklift.
Moving to the next port, I overheard there would be a crew change. It seems a lot of the crew will be changed, even the Captain. I went on the bridge to check on the Chief. To my surprise, a gentleman stood on the bridge. A tall, proud figure, dressed in a fine suit with a shirt and tie. He was shaved, and you could smell his aftershave; his hair was short but with style. I made a curve to the chart room and stumbled upon Chief.
I whispered, "Who's this?"
Chief nodded his head and whispered back, "It's the…Captain."
I couldn't believe my eyes. Captain Hobo was no more a street bum, but a real Captain.
The Captain turned around and said to Chief, "Give all the crew extra overtime."
Chief nodded, and the Captain addressed me, "Soon we will be approaching the pilot area, so go to your post."
I nodded, speechless, and went off the bridge with deep thoughts on the Captain's transformation. It was like he was trapped in some cursed Hobo form, and somehow, he managed to break the curse.
As we berthed in the port, the new crew was already there on the shore. When the crew came aboard, there was a young, tall, athletically built Chief Officer named Lock. He was shaved clean with short black hair, expressive eyes, a strong jawline, and high cheekbones. The Captain was a thin, middle-aged man with longer black hair and a Don Quixote beard. He even resembled Don Quixote although he wore rectangular, thin-framed glasses. Some other crew included the 3rd Engineer, who had a beer belly, longer white hair, and he spat saliva through his teeth when he spoke. The new bosun was a medium-height man with short black hair and a thick mustache that completely covered his lips. His shallow jawline contrasted with the fullness of his mustache, which was the most prominent feature on his face, drawing attention away from his less defined jaw. He talked to himself from time to time, and you could notice it as his mustache moved constantly. I waved goodbye to the old Chief Officer as he left the ship. No matter what anybody would say, in my opinion, the Chief just had some bad luck.