The ship...

I wandered down to the waterfront and, after a few questions and answers accompanied by wry smiles and the odd sullen look, I found the ship. When I saw her I understood the smiles and guessed at the sullen looks. She wasn’t much to see, older than any vessel in dock and smaller than most except for the tugs and pilot boats. It was clear from the various lumps, bumps and welding scars visible through the paintwork that the ship had been patched up many times before. If the hull had been scraped clean she would have looked like a patchwork-quilt of odds and ends. I went on board. There was a dishevelled looking man leaning over the far rail in dirty shirtsleeves spitting into the water every few seconds. I asked him where I could find the Captain. He said, ‘I’m the Captain.’ I told him, by orders from above, that I would be coming on his next trip. ‘Supercargo?’ he asked. I nodded. We shook hands and he said he was glad to hear it. We went to his cabin for a chat and a drink and he told me some stories of the Magellan Straits in dirty weather and other parts of the world. I said nothing. He was in a talkative mood.

He told me he didn’t think much of the sailing qualities of his ship. He had just come direct from one voyage and had been allocated this vessel. He’d had no time to give her a thorough examination and was going mostly on faith that she was as sea worthy as she was supposed to be. The ship’s registered gross tonnage is 4,253, with a deadweight tonnage of 6,341. I say registered because she will be capable of taking more weight on board without noticeably lowering in the water. She has a length of 101 metres, a beam of 16.06 metres, and her draft is 7.22 metres. Her average speed is 13 knots. Her holds are her best feature, exactly suited to purpose.

And so, I joined the ship’s company.