Christmas is just around the corner and once again I am stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean. I bite my nails daily; ever closer to the veins that keep the fingertips alive and ever closer to chewing off the whole nail in frustration.
To be stuck on a ship and to know that x-mass will be part of the voyage is an acceptable part of the job and something that all at sea accept begrudgingly. But to be stuck on a ship after my contract has expired and still no relief has arrived is disastrous to the fingernails, to the mind and to the wife back home. I am due off on the seventeenth December, an excellent time for all concerned, except for the fact that it is now the 17th December and we are idling around an oilrig in Indonesia waiting for the weather to calm down.
I may be premature in my lack of hope for getting home in time for Santa. But I would rather be pleasantly surprised than unexpectedly finding myself eating an imitation Turkey (the last frozen chicken onboard) and saying happy X-mass whilst fixing the sewage tank! The cook is excellent but the ship is totally unprepared for this upcoming day, so used to the idea of being in port have we all been that the ship does not even possess a little old tree or even a piece of tinsel.
Yesterday I decided that should we be perched on the top of a wave on the twenty fifth of December that I would be prepared. I managed to tune into the BBC World Service and record some of the usual X-mass songs that people back home never listen to but those at sea do ¡V when nothing else is available. They are extremely scratchy and at some points tend to fade away to be replaced by some Argentinean political talk show, but they do between the beeps and hisses bring some X-mass spirit with them.
With the music sorted and ready I turned to other required attributes for the days ahead. Decorations are usual and necessary in any household and by the last rivet on the ship I was going to get some made up, soon to be hanging proudly in the mess room. For this task I required the services of a reluctant Philippine Oiler who I could immediately see would never be able to grasp the essence behind my plan. Not that the essence would be required, I just needed his hands although I could well have done without him spreading rumors around the ship about how I was going weird!
The Oiler settled down to his task of painting strips of brown packing paper in different colors and spray painting various tin cans, plastic cups and suitable objects with even braver colors as he warmed to the task. Meanwhile I got down to making glitter out of filed metal scrapings to put on his finished articles and to make the tree that would be the center of my creativity.
The tree posed a problem due to a lack of materials for the purpose. But with thought a large hacksaw and a now enthusiastic Oiler it started to take shape. Simply made it had a large beam of wood as the trunk and loads of twisted piano wire as the branches and with plenty of brown packing paper painted green to resemble the leaves. Once started, easily finished.
It is strange how people come around. At the beginning when I suggested that we should make the most of the day everybody just wiped it off with comments like: never like ¡§X-mass anyway¡¨, or ¡§I¡¦ll celebrate it when we get back to port¡¨. But as I progressed with my details slowly but surely the mountain came to Mohammed and before another day had passed wonders were being achieved. In fact the mess room looked brighter and better than any other ships x-mass decorations I had seen before. It all smelt of new paint and pieces of my glitter filings kept on falling off ¡V a possible damper to any future eating in the room ¡V but it looked good anyway.
Oh and the tree kept on falling to one side as the weight of it kept on pulling out the supports that the now eager Oiler had installed. Through tenacity he managed to get it stable by hammering a six-inch nail though the pine cover top ¡V something to worry about later when the tree is taken down and hopefully I am back home.
The cook at this point started to turn a bit weird. I noticed first at dinner that all was not as it should be simply due to the fact that there was hardly enough food for three rather than the crew of twelve. Most people at sea are used to individuals turning weird for a day or two so his change was not seriously noted. With most hungry workers eating cheese sandwiches and crackers nothing more was thought of it until the following day. And there at lunch he was sitting in his storeroom with his head in hands whilst rocking to and fro¡¦ and saying ¡§ooh mama¡¨, over and over again and with no food prepared at all.
How long he had been in there is any bodies guess: all night maybe or since he had been told to prepare an X-mass dinner fit for kings? The mad cook was reported without further ado to the Captain who took it upon himself to investigate his misery. Taking him aside he talked, in what he thought was his fatherly manner, to the crying cook and asked him if something had happened at home or if he was unhappy to be working on this fine ship.
The cook, stuck for words resorted to actions for his answer and flinging wide the storeroom door he gave the Captain all that he had ¡V or not as the situation stood.
Old Mother Hubbard went to the Cupboard and found that the cupboard was bare ¡K..
I think the variety of available foods could be counted on the fingers. A bag of rice sat alone in the corner with a couple of cans of tinned fruits, baked beans and a whole case of Tabasco Sauce. In total the available foods on the vessel, including freezers, fridge¡¦s¡¦, private cabins and stores and in-use would last at best another week.
We were plumb out of anything and everything, including flour for a cake and apart from tons of the hot Tabasco Sauce and one smallish frozen chicken that would be about all that X-mass fare had to offer ¡V should we be able to survive on bread and water until that time. In retrospect had I not enforced the Christmas spirit into all onboard, had I not filled the mess-room with Christmas cheer and glitter, and had I refrained from blasting carols around the vessel on the intercom system then maybe the disappointment and general glumness felt would not have been so great. I have never been on a vessel where so many crew members retired to their cabins alone and miserable, I have never been on a ship were so many felt so down and depressed. I was rather guilty over my part in all of this.
I felt even worse the next morning when the Captain informed me that my relief was on his way and that I would be relieved by helicopter that afternoon. The company had lived up to their end of the bargain, I was going home after all and I was going to spend Christmas with my family. I had it all!
The guys on the ship all shook hands with me as I was lifted up onto the Oil Rig in the basket. They all wished me luck and hoped that we would meet again on another vessel next trip. I think though that these were only words and as I looked down on their hunched shoulders I felt sorry for them all. I felt sorry for them as the picture conjured up in my mind of X-mas day hit me suddenly.
Images of a half-cooked chicken covered in a weird mixture of glitter and hot sauce entered my mind. Images of a table with glasses of water sitting next to mangy pieces of sliced white bread and processed cheese, all surrounded by a group of hunched and silent people came my way.
I looked down as the helicopter flew overhead and all I could think of was their scratchy carols trying to make an indent into the glum atmosphere, the forced cheer, the falling decorations and the six inch nail that was the only thing keeping that tree falling down like the rest of the life around it.
I went home.
My Christmas spirit would not have returned had I not heard from that vessel today. The Captain sent me an email just to say hello. He also mentioned the fact that they had decided to return the vessel to port early and so they would be alongside for X-mas. Alongside and in Singapore for the whole season!
I can honestly say: that was the best present I have ever had: although he did mention that my efforts at decorating the mess-room had been disposed of suitably and without trace.
Ieuan Dolby December 2003 Author and Webmaster of Seamania