Hans M.C. Mateboer

The Captain's Journal


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hood of the car expecting nothing less there than the proud logo of Mr. Rolls and Mr. Royce supporting such huge price. Then the bar so colorfully described by your colleagues turns out to be a dreary place with a concrete floor and full of rough looking men with huge moustaches that hang limply in their beers. A place definitely not to be described in detail in a message back home!

      Of course, there are many bright spots in the life of a young seaman, and for those lucky enough to start their careers on cruise ships, many of the negatives mentioned don’t apply. We don’t have to walk a mile before we’re at the port’s gate. We simply take a shuttle bus. Then once at that gate, the town often is just across the street. On top of that, we’re docked in a part of town we wouldn’t mind telling our mothers about!

      All this explains somewhat that the road to becoming a captain is a long and often difficult one. It also accounts for the fact that once the position is within reach, many staff captains or chief officers can hardly contain their impatience and want to take the final step as soon as possible. They painstakingly keep track of what their chances of promotion are. Some are even known to have a spreadsheet on their computers listing the names of the various captains, their retirement dates and, even more important, their ailments! One particularly eager chief officer I once sailed with had gone to the length of installing a risk calculator on his laptop, not unlike those used by life insurance companies. He diligently logged the various captains’ habits, like who smoked and who ate too many fatty foods.

      My current chief officer doesn’t go to such lengths, but it’s true that whenever I go to the gym and pass by his office, I detect a slight disapproval in his eyes and his lips curl upward a bit in the corners displaying an insincere smile. I think he’s biding his time, and not too long ago his chance finally seemed to have arrived. He grabbed it with vigor, only to have it slip through his fingers.

      It all started when our first officer decided it would be a great idea to have his parents join him on a cruise. The company was offering some great incentives, so why not take advantage of them? On a beautiful day in Civitavecchia they came on board for a voyage through the Mediterranean. The weather was beautiful and the cruise went on without any trouble. I must recount a small incident in Messina, Sicily, where we did one of our periodic Man Over Board drills. We repeatedly blared the secret code word for such an event over the open decks and into the town. “Mr. MOB, report on starboard side!” This was not appreciated by the local criminal society and our agent later counseled me that it might be wise not to go ashore in the near future as some very important and dangerous people felt they were being ridiculed.

      But as I said, the cruise went well for everyone until a few days later, when the first officer’s father developed some health issues. This, of course, was a great concern to him and nervously he monitored the situation, but everything seemed to be going well until early the last morning of the cruise.

      This was when our chief officer, his first cup of coffee of the day in his hand, sleepily wandered onto the bridge to check on the progress made in approaching the Civitavecchia pilot station. Maybe there still would be time for him to make a quick round of the decks – it was early enough not to be disturbed by the usual distractions when the same thing was done during his normal working hours. Also, I was still happily asleep and not yet in any position to disturb his day.

      Slurping his coffee, he yawned and looked sideways. It was still dark on the bridge, but dawn was about to break and already spreading some faint light around. The first officer was on the phone, a worried frown on his face while a hushed conversation was going on. Finally he put the phone down with a deep sigh. His mind not working at its normal speed yet, the chief asked, “Was that the old man? You look worried, anything wrong?”

      “Yes, he told me he’s hyperventilating and needs a doctor right now! I’ll give the hospital a call,” the First answered, reaching for the telephone.

      The chief almost dropped his coffee cup. A window of opportunity suddenly opened up and he knew he’d have to grab the chance!

      “You stay with the navigation! I’ll call the hospital. He needed a doctor, you said?”

      “Yes, but I can…”

      The chief already had reached for his cell phone, turning away from the First, who was quite busy navigating the ship. What a nice guy the chief was, he thought, to be so concerned about his father!

      “Is that the first call nurse? Get your stuff ready. We’re having a medical emergency up here. I’ll give the doc a call, as well. Hurry, it could be a heart attack!”

      Quickly he hung up and glanced at his shoulder boards, where a meager four stripes glistened in the emerging daylight. Should he quickly place a call to the head office to confirm his promotion? No, it would be more humble to let the good news come from their side. Finally his day had come! He ran to his cabin to glance in the secret compartment of his travel bag where the 4½ stripe shoulder bars were ever-present and ready for use. He patted them tenderly, because soon now they would proudly decorate his shoulders. Then commotion outside his office in the corridor told him that the medical department had arrived to attend to the neighboring cabin.

      “We brought the stretcher team!” the nurse panted.

      Salivating, the chief looked at the electrical shock equipment they’d brought just to be on the safe side. Would he dare to ask the doctor, as a personal favor, to allow him to apply it? Where was the button to increase the force? He shrugged the appealing thought off. Better not…

      “The door is locked! Fast, get the master key. The poor man needs immediate help!”

      On the other side of the door, I was becoming vaguely aware of some unusual noises outside. But still half asleep, I figured that since they hadn’t called me yet for arrival, it would be best to block it out and try to sleep again. We get little enough rest as it is. This peaceful state of mind ended abruptly after the chief produced his master key and a horde of people surrounded me, slapping my face and pushing me around. What was this? A mutiny? I sat up straight.

      “Get out of here! What do you think you’re doing?”

      The lead nurse yelled, “He’s resisting! Give me my bag. We need to calm him down!”

      Wide-eyed and trying to comprehend what was happening, I looked at a huge needle coming my way, but I was saved by the bell. A telephone bell! On the bridge, the first officer had gotten another call from his family asking when the nurse would arrive.

      The First’s thinking, not being mixed up with thoughts of promotion, was a bit clearer than the chief’s, and he quickly put two and two together. When he opened the door of the wheelhouse to witness the chaos in the corridor outside my cabin and heard the strangled sounds coming from within, a big smile spread over his face. Not without glee he whispered the sad news in the chief’s ear that a slight mistake might have been made and that he’d better stop the performance or possibly risk a career U-turn.

      Later that day, when we heard that the First’s father was doing well, we had a good laugh about the whole thing, but for this “old man” it was a warning never to trust the motives of the second in command!

      Chapter 5

      The Double

      I had spent the night in a New York hotel and wasn’t in the best of moods. The room was barely adequate, the mattress full of lumps, and street noise freely entered the room through hidden cracks and crevices. The fact that I’d just left my wife behind at home and wouldn’t see her for months didn’t help much either to improve my frame of mind because I always feel a bit low for the first few days when I go to my ship. On the other hand I was looking forward to joining the ship, which makes for a strange combination of feelings – one I share with many others in my profession.

      The company’s agent had left a message that I would be picked up at 8 am sharp and taken to the ship. After having a hearty breakfast I rolled my suitcases out the front door. The weather was beautiful, so why not wait outside? Sitting on a bench, to my surprise I saw an enormous tour bus turn into the hotel’s driveway. I wouldn’t have imagined this particular hotel to cater