you can join us for lunch?”
Mother, who I later learned, carried the romantic name of Meg, asked. Thinking about the wonders that were in store for me during my first trip on a cruise ship, I happily agreed. And what a cruise it could be, if only I could cultivate my relationship with Amanda and Meg a little more. All the unbelievable stories about women on board cruise ships seemed to be true after all.
At the lido we met a guy who, to my intense relief, was only the brother of Amanda, and not some “lowlife” of a boyfriend. He was as friendly as could be, and both Amanda and Peter seemed to adore Meg, who to me was very nice. She patted my knee repeatedly and moved a little closer each time, until I started regretting that I took a sofa to sit down on and not a single chair at the other side of the table. Of course I pretended not to notice.
We chatted as if we had known each other forever, and Amanda told me she had broken up with her boyfriend a few months before— an act I secretly applauded. She was not looking for somebody else yet she said, looking me straight in the eyes. I couldn’t believe my good luck, and leaned over the table towards her, while Meg leaned over to me. A little annoying of course, but once at sea, she would realize it was her daughter I was after, and not her.
I did not see the chief officer coming until he stood in front of our table. His face showed complete surprise seeing me with this beautiful girl, obviously having a good time. In utter amazement he exclaimed; “I thought you were told to report to the bridge after lunch! Instead I find you chasing girls. You’re fast, I give you that, but it’s hardly a good start, being on board only a few hours and already out of line.”
I was dumbfounded, what had I done wrong? I looked at my watch and with horror saw that it was 3:00 p.m. already, long past the reporting time. A feeling of doom came over me and I started to get up, but the chief had left already. This didn’t look good, my first day on the job and reprimanded already. At least, looking at Amanda, chances were good that it would be worth it. Getting up and looking at them, I managed a smile. Meg grabbed my arm.
“I will see you during the cruise, I hope. Maybe you can visit my cabin some time soon.” She said.
I immediately agreed. The prospect of visiting Amanda, at least made the idea of having to face the chief officer bearable.
“All right, but I have to go now, otherwise I’m in trouble. What’s your cabin number?”
“Cabin 371.”
Amanda and Peter also got up; both hugged Meg and kissed her on both cheeks.
“Hope you have a terrific cruise, Ma. We have to go. They just announced visitors ashore.”
“What, you are not coming on this cruise?”
My voice was shrill with consternation. What was this? Had they only brought their mother to the ship only? I had thought ….
“Oh, we are so happy that we met you. First we thought Mother would be lonely, but now you can keep her company.”
Amanda and Peter vigorously shook my hand, expressing their gratitude. Amanda even went as far as giving me a kiss and hugging me. She looked at me strangely, as I suddenly must have seemed lukewarm; all my enthusiasm had drained away. Not very successfully trying to smile, I promised them their mother would not be alone.
On the navigation bridge, the chief officer hardly acknowledged my presence, and instead loudly announced his opinion about me to the captain. The grandfather figure of yesterday had turned into a man with penetrating gray eyes, which seemed to bore straight through me. Both snorted and turned their backs on me.
Wet Paint
Days at sea, I am convinced, are the best part of a cruise. The relaxing in the sun at the ship’s pools, the late mornings, a leisurely breakfast with no pressure to go ashore, is what cruising is all about. This is true for the passengers as well as the crew. Of course, we all go on a cruise or to sea, to see something of the world, and at first glance, an itinerary with a new port every day appears very attractive, but after a few days of port hopping the sea days become more and more appealing. Of course a cruise without ports would be pointless. After all, everybody wants to go somewhere.
Wouldn’t it be odd to report to your neighbor, during the weekly Tuesday evening of bridge, that you didn’t go anywhere, only to sea, and that for two weeks! Gossip about you would run wild and friends would start avoiding you, putting your mental stability in question. It is a fact however that the more experienced a cruiser becomes, the more he or she appreciates the sea days. Those who ponder making their first cruise however, often go for the itinerary, crammed with as many ports as possible. To me it seems that we are not doing a great job in educating those, by bringing the sea day more to their attention in all its glory.
While it’s not unusual that a brochure allocates half a page describing the joys and pleasures of each port of call, the sea day is mostly simply called, “sea day.” Experienced cruisers often read between the lines of those brochures and look for what is not there.
It was one of those sea days, a most beautiful one in the Caribbean. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, and a light wind kept the temperature to a level that was just right. The previous day we had sailed from Curacao and were en route to Barbados just about half way into our ten day cruise. I was on duty on the bridge on the 12 to 4 watch, and in the best of possible moods. Outside, on each bridge wing, crew members were hard at work. On one side, a sailor was sanding and varnishing the teakwood railings to a dark and rich tint. Even simply watching that job gave me huge satisfaction. Wood is such a beautiful material, and applying the varnish, making it gleam like a mirror, while at the same time being outside, certainly is not a job to complain about. Every now and then I walked outside and chatted with the sailor who was painting, and he explained to me how he did his job.
“Varnishing is more difficult than you think, Sir. First you have to use rough sandpaper, and then give it a coat of varnish. Then you do it with a finer grade and give it another coat.”
“What’s in there?” I pointed at an unmarked can containing a watery substance.
“Oh, that’s the converter, Sir. You add it, and then the varnish dries faster. The more you add, the faster it dries. Feel it.” He pointed at a railing part he just finished.
I made a mental note to remember this, as I was planning to pursue an advertisement I had seen, announcing a little wooden sailing boat for sale, which without question would need tons of varnish.
“I only did this part half an hour ago and it’s almost dry.” The man was right; it was amazing. The railing shone like a mirror, and he only just had finished working on it.
“Oops, almost three. Time for coffee”.
The sailor put his brush in a can with thinner, closed the can with varnish, and with a, “See you later,” he went down to the mess room. I too went inside and poured myself a cup. Sipping on it, while leaning on the window sill, looking out over the blue sea, I was at peace with the world.
Now that I have at length mentioned the sailor painting, you might want to know what crew member was so hard at work on the bridge wing at starboard side. Well at that side there was the captain, working very hard to get a nice suntan. He had organized a deck chair with a little table, and with the bridge wing being a restricted area, he was alone, and had all the
