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It was mid-July at the anchorage and the sea was choppy. We, four cadets, were on
board the pilot vessel (a ship that supplier pilots to guide inward or outward bound ships
into now of the port), working on shifts. Not that we will be going to far off lands. We
would be floating in the mid-sea with our ship firmly anchored at the vicinity of the last
Being fresh from college, we were naturally sick. Sick because we were far of from
our sweet little home in the midst of that rocking isolation and sick because of the
rocking itself. During recess, most of the time we would lie down with our dizzy heads
under two pillows. The sea-sickness overran all of us. All of us vomited, some more-some
less, but all of us vomited all the same. The remaining period was divided between deck
work and bridge duty, once in 24 hours. But during both, our subconscious would count
the number of days left in the trip and would dream of the day when our vessel would
We were directly under the chief officer, who was a real psycho.
“Come on boys, let's start chipping and painting on the hull plates in the forecastle
rebuke
Orders after orders he would thrust upon us to keep us busy throughout the deck-
work session.
"Work will divert your mind from vomiting,” he used to quip with a vicious smile.
So we would lurch our way up to the forecastle or anywhere as ordered and start
“Easy darling! You are to chip off the rust and not the iron inside,” he would retort
in his cranky voice, with his hands on his hip as if inspecting a miner of the medieval era.
Only the whip was replaced by the lashes from his tongue. Sometimes this work and
rebuke session dug deep into our rest period, leaving us bereft of sleep for hours on end.
With half of our rest period being hijacked by our boss, we would scamper to our
cabin to grab some sleep, once let off from his clutches.
A few hours later our weary steps would be climbing up the accommodation ladder
The captain’s cabin was just below the bridge. We had firm orders. “Take off your
shoes before you enter the wheelhouse as the tapping will disturb his sleep” we were told
One day I somehow forgot to open my shoes and walked into the bridge. My partner
also overlooked it. Within minutes the master came up. He was smoking a pipe. The flush
of his cheeks and the smell around him, proclaimed that he had been enjoying his evening
drink in his cabin. The contortion between the brows spewed warning signals as his
“Are your shoes more important to you than your job, my little fellow,” he snapped.
“Err! Sorry sir! I just missed it”. My voice trembled as I ran outside to open my
shoes.
“Do you know the naval, salute, kid?” he asked, knowing very well that all the
Just when I saluted, a giant wave thrashed on the port quarter (left side at the stern
of the vessel). Being off balance my left hand slipped and came forward.
“Are you holding your cocks and saluting! A salute is something more serious you
Quickly I removed my hand to the correct position and saluted again “That’s better!
That’s better. Now stay like that for ten minutes before you remove your shoes outside”.
Ten minutes later, when his sadist steps took him back to his evening pegs again, I
ran to the wings and plunged my head out to throw up into the sea.
The news spread like hold fire - in the saloon, in the diving hall, in the alleyway
from the forecastle to the stern - everywhere. The officers were asking, the crew were
The humiliation was complete when I heard that I was nicknamed “Salute Sahib” by
the crew.
Twenty four hours later, our chief officer swung into action. He called all of us to
his cabin to give us updates on our progress during the voyage. Naturally, he did it in his
“You boys are really lazy. Everyday I had to flog you to work. You should have
shown more initiative. Anyway, try to mend your ways in whatever time left. Find out
work for yourself and start your scrapping, chipping, painting, etc without even asking
me.” Then working towards me slyly from the corner of his eye, he said.
“You people cannot salute even in a proper manner”, you are so lazy.
I would have liked to spit on his face at that juncture, but some how controlled the
On the penultimate day of the trip we hatched a plan to avenge our mortification.
That evening we went with our hammers and scrappers to work on the bulkhead (wall)
“Good evening Sir! Chief-Sahib has told us to scrap and paint wherever we find rust
and show extra effort in cleaning up the ship before it proceeds to the post”, I whimpered.
“Send your chief! And you four just f**k off from here.”
Ten minutes later everyone on board experienced a storm on the captain’s deck with
That evening we partied in our cabin. Though empty cans of beer whizzed through
the port hole of our cabin into the rough sea, strangely enough, no one vomited. No one
even talked about their sweet little home, no one counted the hours left of the trip.
Twelve hours later the pilot vessel heaved her anchor and started proceeding up to
the port.
The chief never appeared before us since that blast. We saw him, finally, when we
were to disembark at the port. At the gangway, we bade him and the master farewell with
a naval salute.
By : Amitava Chakrabarty.