Looking for a Ship (19 page)
Read Looking for a Ship Online
Authors: John McPhee
A
few good campfires might loosen up the mealtimes on the Stella. I remember the first time I appeared in the officers' dining room for dinner. The captain was there, and Andy Chase, and Bernie Tibbotts. All three had been served and were eating. No one else was present. Tibbotts sat alone at a table, facing a wall. Chase sat alone at a table, facing the opposite wall. The captain, at his table, sat with his back to a third wall, looking into the room, and into the space between the turned backs of Chase and Tibbotts. Franz Kafka was up in the ceiling, crawling on a fluorescent tube. No one spoke. No one so much as nodded when I came in. I sat down where I was supposed to: at a fourth table, across the room from the captain. I looked at him through the slot between the other men's backs. I did not haveâI'm here to tell youâthe temerity to speak.
few good campfires might loosen up the mealtimes on the Stella. I remember the first time I appeared in the officers' dining room for dinner. The captain was there, and Andy Chase, and Bernie Tibbotts. All three had been served and were eating. No one else was present. Tibbotts sat alone at a table, facing a wall. Chase sat alone at a table, facing the opposite wall. The captain, at his table, sat with his back to a third wall, looking into the room, and into the space between the turned backs of Chase and Tibbotts. Franz Kafka was up in the ceiling, crawling on a fluorescent tube. No one spoke. No one so much as nodded when I came in. I sat down where I was supposed to: at a fourth table, across the room from the captain. I looked at him through the slot between the other men's backs. I did not haveâI'm here to tell youâthe temerity to speak.
Each of these tables, mind, is large enough to accommodate four or more people, but you know your place and
you eat in it. When food is set before you, you gulp it and go. “The invariable maxim is to throw away all politeness âthat is, never to wait for each other, and bolt off the minute one has done eating,” says Darwin. He is describing the crew of the Stella Lykes. They eat like sled dogs. They do speak, occasionally. There is no hostility. They mean it when they say that to sail with this captain is to sail on a happy ship. I have walked into the dining room when only two people were there, each facing a different wall. Without looking around, they were conversing. But primarily they are in the dining room to eat, not talk, in the finest restaurant in downtown Catatonia.
you eat in it. When food is set before you, you gulp it and go. “The invariable maxim is to throw away all politeness âthat is, never to wait for each other, and bolt off the minute one has done eating,” says Darwin. He is describing the crew of the Stella Lykes. They eat like sled dogs. They do speak, occasionally. There is no hostility. They mean it when they say that to sail with this captain is to sail on a happy ship. I have walked into the dining room when only two people were there, each facing a different wall. Without looking around, they were conversing. But primarily they are in the dining room to eat, not talk, in the finest restaurant in downtown Catatonia.
The unlicensed crewmen waste no time eating, either. Their dining room is on the other side of the galley. Like the officers, the unlicensed are waited on. Like the officers, they have tablecloths. The menu is the same. The one difference is that if you're an officer you wipe your lips with a cloth napkin; if you're unlicensed, you use paper.
About the foodâit can be confirmed that Mac is not a surgeon. At lunch, there are three entrées, at dinner four, revolving through time in fixed cycles, like the navigational stars. When flounder fillets compete with pork hocks, short ribs, and Texas-style tamales, the choice is neither simple nor obvious. The grilled strip-loin steaks cannot be said to have an advantage over their traditional rivalsâbroiled franks, American chop suey, and fried mah-chena egg rolls. Prime ribs compete uncertainly with smoked sausage, Cantonese-style fried rice, and East Indian lamb curry. Each day's menu includes seventy items, none fresh (in the sense
that everything is bought in the United States and stored for the voyage). The pork chops may be cobblestones, the salmon steak taxidermy. The honeycomb tripe may be used to stop a hole in the hull. Virtually written into the scrambled eggs with brains is the question: Which are the brains? But the turnips, the turnip greens, the black-eyed peas, the pinto beans, the roast lamb, roast pork, roast veal, roast turkey, the kippers, the catfish, the ham and grits, the eggplant, the hush puppies, the brisket, the ice creams, the boiled smoked ox tongue with mustard sauce do not deserve to be called inedible. They tend to explain why so many in the crew have the silhouettes of shucked clams.
that everything is bought in the United States and stored for the voyage). The pork chops may be cobblestones, the salmon steak taxidermy. The honeycomb tripe may be used to stop a hole in the hull. Virtually written into the scrambled eggs with brains is the question: Which are the brains? But the turnips, the turnip greens, the black-eyed peas, the pinto beans, the roast lamb, roast pork, roast veal, roast turkey, the kippers, the catfish, the ham and grits, the eggplant, the hush puppies, the brisket, the ice creams, the boiled smoked ox tongue with mustard sauce do not deserve to be called inedible. They tend to explain why so many in the crew have the silhouettes of shucked clams.
At breakfast one Saturday (day of the green-onion omelette), Captain Washburn slowed the pace of eating with a disquisition to his tablemates on the batting techniques of Rogers Hornsby. The captain, who seems to remember everything he has ever read, heard, or seen, may know only a little less about Rogers Hornsby than he does about Sammy Baugh. He knows that Hornsby hit .397 in 1921, the highest batting average in the National League since 1899. He knows that Hornsby hit .424 in 1924 and that his fielding percentage in the same year was .965. He laid all this out, or something like it, for the chief mate, the chief engineer, and the radio operator, who sit at table with him. Bill Beach, the radio operator, listened with apparent interest, and after Hornsby's far-from-the-plate, choke-and-crouch batting stance had been anatomized all the way out through the metacarpals and into the phalanges Beach asked if a baseball glove is made of leather or rubber. He also askedâout of
the blueâwhat team Joe DiMaggio played for. In the Merchant Marine generally, the person they call Sparks is regarded as the occupant of a numbered cloud, a distinct, if not strange, well-paid weirdo. Vernon McLaughlin tells of a radio operator who would not smoke a cigarette unless someone else had smoked it first, a radio operator who burst into tears every morning on the bridge, and a radio operator who ate raw garlic cloves as if they were salted peanuts. William Raymond Charteris Beach, radio operator of the Stella Lykes, is not on any kind of cloud; he is merely Scottish. He grew up in Edinburgh, and he doesn't know Rogers Hornsby from Donald Ban MacCrimmon. Beach used to work for the daily
Scotsman
, transmitting and receiving radio pictures. As a former journalist, he is not comfortable with the fact that the crews of American merchant ships crisscross the oceans with little or no idea of what is happening ashore. Voluntarily, in his spare time, he writes and publishes a one-page all-caps daily newspaper, which he circulates through the house. The name of the paper has changed three times on this voyage. It has been the
Sun Sentinel
, the
Sun Reporter
, the
World News
, and the
Knowledge Nugget
. His wire service is wireless. Among other things, this is what has been happening ashore:
the blueâwhat team Joe DiMaggio played for. In the Merchant Marine generally, the person they call Sparks is regarded as the occupant of a numbered cloud, a distinct, if not strange, well-paid weirdo. Vernon McLaughlin tells of a radio operator who would not smoke a cigarette unless someone else had smoked it first, a radio operator who burst into tears every morning on the bridge, and a radio operator who ate raw garlic cloves as if they were salted peanuts. William Raymond Charteris Beach, radio operator of the Stella Lykes, is not on any kind of cloud; he is merely Scottish. He grew up in Edinburgh, and he doesn't know Rogers Hornsby from Donald Ban MacCrimmon. Beach used to work for the daily
Scotsman
, transmitting and receiving radio pictures. As a former journalist, he is not comfortable with the fact that the crews of American merchant ships crisscross the oceans with little or no idea of what is happening ashore. Voluntarily, in his spare time, he writes and publishes a one-page all-caps daily newspaper, which he circulates through the house. The name of the paper has changed three times on this voyage. It has been the
Sun Sentinel
, the
Sun Reporter
, the
World News
, and the
Knowledge Nugget
. His wire service is wireless. Among other things, this is what has been happening ashore:
CHILD KILLER SET TO GO TO THE CHAIR FOR KILLING HIS 8 YEAR OLD NIECE.
Â
DOW JONES 2131.
Â
HARVARD CLOSED DUE TO HEAT WAVE.
YENt33
=
$1.
=
$1.
Â
L.A.âGANG WARSâ3 KILLED AND 4 WOUNDED.
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DETROITâON A CAR BUMPER STICKER:â“ON A QUIET NIGHT YOU CAN HEAR A FORD RUST.”
Â
NIXON SAYSâIT WAS OK FOR QUAILS RELATIVES TO PULL STRINGS.
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TEL A VIVâHOUSE WIFE KILLED A ROACH AND THREW IT INTO A TOILET. BUG STILL ALIVE, SO SHE SPRAYED A FULL CAN OF BUG SPRAY INTO THE BOWL. HUSBAND CAME HOME, USED TOILET, LIT A CIGARETTE, FUMES CAUGHT FIRE, BURNED HIS SENSITIVE PARTS, MEDICS CAME, PUT HIM ON A STRETCHER, ASKED WHAT HAPPENED, STARTED LAUGHING, DROPPED HIM, BROKE HIS PELVIS & 2 WRISTS.
Â
1100 POUNDS OF COKE FROM A HAITIAN FREIGHTER, 7 PEOPLE ARRESTED.
Â
100 YEARS AGO TODAYâWILD BILL HICKOK WAS SHOT TO DEATH AFTER GETTING THE DEAD MAN'S HAND OF ACES AND 8'S.
“In Deadwood, South Dakota,” Captain Washburn was heard to mutter. “Shot in Deadwood, South Dakota, by Black Jack McCall. Not in a man-to-man. They went up behind him.”
To combat boredom, Andy takes his guitar with him
on most voyages. He goes up on the bow or out on the fantail to be off by himself and sing. Or he goes to his cabin. He says, “I close my door and sing my heart out.”
on most voyages. He goes up on the bow or out on the fantail to be off by himself and sing. Or he goes to his cabin. He says, “I close my door and sing my heart out.”
To defeat boredomâor somethingâa third engineer on the previous voyage brought pornographic videos with him. Almost every night, he took a pillow and a blanket to the officers' lounge and spent eight hours watching the movies. Lykes Brothers supplies videocassettes with less vivid ratings. There are twelve movies in a steel drawer in the so-called IBM Room, on the cabin deck, where the ship's computer is. (A Navy ship half the size of ours will typically carry three hundred movies.) On the drawer is a sign that reads “ProclamationâWithin Find Movies and Condoms for Your Pleasure.” The sign includes a drawing of a mortar and pestle decorated with the letters Rx. At the beginning of the voyage, Captain Washburn wrote a note to crew members which said, in part, “Prostitutes, even those professionals who carry health cards, are not routinely checked for AIDS virus in South America. AIDS is not curable at this time! AIDS will kill you!! At this time the safest known way to avoid contacting AIDS, when engaging in sex, is to use a condom (rubber). To that end a supply of condoms (rubbers) is available on a 24 hours basis in the IBM Room in the draw with the movies. You are not limited to a specific number nor do you need anyone's permission to help yourself to the supply. Simply take what you need.”
The crew, by and large, are not self-conscious about the sex they have ashore. You could not even call them candid, unless it is also candid to mention, say, that you
took your car in for a job at Midas Muffler. In Lima, one crewman visits a prostitute who is also a certified public accountant but can't make ends meet as a C.P.A. In Buenaventura, he needs a new cliental arrangement, because his friend of two years is pregnant.
took your car in for a job at Midas Muffler. In Lima, one crewman visits a prostitute who is also a certified public accountant but can't make ends meet as a C.P.A. In Buenaventura, he needs a new cliental arrangement, because his friend of two years is pregnant.
In the era of the Vietnam Sealift, the Merchant Marine had a much higher percentage of boozers and junkies than are now on the oceans under the American flag. Crews are reduced. There are few ships. The jobs that are now so hard to come by can be permanently lost: seamen can get on the “Do NOT REEMPLOY” list. “After Lykes, there aren't too many places to go anymore,” Washburn remarked one day. “And if the company is tolerant of a drug-related incident the Coast Guard may not be.”
When I said that I was not able to sense drug use in the house, the captain looked at the ceiling and threw lariats with his eyes. He said, “No doubt we have users around here. People who smoke a few things. I don't think we have any mainliners or anybody really strung out. You can't put this many people together and not have somebody using something.”
The late Moore-McCormack Lines used to permit officers' wives to accompany their husbands on voyages. Generally speaking, that is not done in the United States Merchant Marine but is customary on European ships. The Lykes Brothers' Cygnus, which was built by Germans for their own merchant fleet, has a swimming pool, an exercise room, and related spaces that do not exist on American freighters and tankers. There are a few exceptions, but, as
Bill Beach has said, “American ships compared to European ships are a disgrace. The design is better in European ships. They're like homes. There are bigger rooms. There are drapes and French doors in the lounge. This ship's equipment is antique compared with Japanese or German ships. Norwegian ships are immaculate. They have wine at dinner.”
Bill Beach has said, “American ships compared to European ships are a disgrace. The design is better in European ships. They're like homes. There are bigger rooms. There are drapes and French doors in the lounge. This ship's equipment is antique compared with Japanese or German ships. Norwegian ships are immaculate. They have wine at dinner.”
Andy's cabin, on the cabin deck, is nine and a half by fifteen feet, bathroom and shower included. Usually, second mates live in that space eighty-four days. If their wives were aboard, they would do well to bring their lawyers. On the other hand, the age of the seabag is long over. A mariner can get on the ship with five suitcases if he wants to. Some people bring their computers. One flight down from the cabin deck is the upper deck, home of the unlicensed. The word “fo'c'sle” has gravitated to this part of the house. Mac and Calvin are in cabins side by side, each door marked “4-8 A.B.” Each man's cabin is five feet six inches wide and fourteen feet deep, and has a desk with three drawers, a sink, and two more drawers under the bunk. The two cabins have a common bathroom, or, in Calvin's words, “shower and commode with watch partner.” Around a corner of the narrow corridor is David Carter the demac. His cabin is seven by eleven, with a sink alcove. Above the pictures of his kids is a poster of a seminude woman who could be made of titanium. Every sailor has at least one porthole. David's looks out at containers.
Some ships supply individual refrigerators in people's rooms. On this ship, only the chiefs have them. Air-conditioning
became standard on American merchant ships in the nineteen-seventies. There is a union rule that linen must be changed every day if the air-conditioning breaks down. “When you see Third World junkers,” Andy says, “all the portholes are open.” The quarters of the bosun are in the rear center of the house, the chief engineer in the left front corner, the chief mate in the right front corner, the captain above the chief mate, and Sparks highest of allâon the bridge deck, in crescent-shaped quarters within the false stack. There are four rooms for passengers, not all occupied. On many voyages they run empty. Carlos, the trainer of Dr. Sab, was in one. The author Alex Haley is noted for riding on merchant ships as a way of isolating himself from distractions and forcing himself to write. He could write a book called “Routes.” Our most durable passenger is Milian Engh, of Edinboro, Pennsylvania, who, with his wife, Gretchen, has travelled on merchant ships many times and has come now despite the inconveniences of an all-out battle with cancer. He has lost the roof of his mouth, and sometimes has to pinch his nostrils in order to achieve speech, but he achieves it, and then some, darting out in response to anything he looks upon as frivolous, inaccurate, or foolish. He weighs a hundred and five pounds. His all but fleshless arms are dark blue. Yet he has brought his canvases, his easel, his small wooden case of acrylic paints. His subject is the ship itself. He is painting her against a brooding jungle of his own invention.
became standard on American merchant ships in the nineteen-seventies. There is a union rule that linen must be changed every day if the air-conditioning breaks down. “When you see Third World junkers,” Andy says, “all the portholes are open.” The quarters of the bosun are in the rear center of the house, the chief engineer in the left front corner, the chief mate in the right front corner, the captain above the chief mate, and Sparks highest of allâon the bridge deck, in crescent-shaped quarters within the false stack. There are four rooms for passengers, not all occupied. On many voyages they run empty. Carlos, the trainer of Dr. Sab, was in one. The author Alex Haley is noted for riding on merchant ships as a way of isolating himself from distractions and forcing himself to write. He could write a book called “Routes.” Our most durable passenger is Milian Engh, of Edinboro, Pennsylvania, who, with his wife, Gretchen, has travelled on merchant ships many times and has come now despite the inconveniences of an all-out battle with cancer. He has lost the roof of his mouth, and sometimes has to pinch his nostrils in order to achieve speech, but he achieves it, and then some, darting out in response to anything he looks upon as frivolous, inaccurate, or foolish. He weighs a hundred and five pounds. His all but fleshless arms are dark blue. Yet he has brought his canvases, his easel, his small wooden case of acrylic paints. His subject is the ship itself. He is painting her against a brooding jungle of his own invention.
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