Page 246 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

looking man whom, I fancied, had not actually been to sea. He was, however, an
easy man to deal with, pleasant but taciturn, and probably a bit put off by this
young mate who seemed to know how an efficient company, which West Line’s
shipping component was not, should be operated. He was, however, easier to deal
with than was the bosun.
This individual, a large florid man who seemed to have only tug-boat
experience, was not so easy to handle. I indicated that I wished to introduce the
painting maintenance routine right away, as the ship exhibited quite a lot of rust
spots, and a cruise vessel should always look smart. Therefore, whenever overtime
was required (coming into port, for instance) the two hours’ minimum could best
be utilised by paint touch-up and sheave greasing. These suggestions went down
like a lead balloon; he could see no reason why two hours’ overtime pay should
not be the reward for a 20-minute berthing. Tiny, an ominous presence, seemed
to agree with him.

But on the whole, I was happy with my lot. Viewed from afar, West Star was
quite a pretty ship. It did not look as though it had lay unloved for two years,
and I was happy with my shipmates, Blackwell being of a somewhat unsettled
disposition, but he looked and sounded like a Captain, and Malcolm being a quiet,
but very pleasant fellow. Further, we had a married couple as Entertainers, she,
an attractive Country and Western singer, and he, a brash young man, a British
carny-type. Although I loath country music (cowboys braying at the moon I just
found stupid) this was a popular duo; her name was Dodie West, a name that was
close to Dottie West, a very popular Country singer. Many passengers were very
happy to be entertained by someone so well-known; that they had the wrong
person seemed not to matter.

We sailed at 7pm after the pilots had boarded and transited the Gulf of
Georgia (now more appropriately named the Salish Sea). I kept the twelve to
six but was not too worried about the coastal complexities (which were quite
strange to a deep-sea mariner) as we had pilots in control the whole time. I knew
I could not have done the job myself, though Steve and Archie could have done
it with their eyes closed. By any measure these were the most complex waters in
which I had sailed, and, to me, had totally inadequate shore lights by which to
discern one’s position. Any idea that I had harboured about the superiority of the
deep-sea ticket over the coastal equivalent was quickly laid to rest, even though
there were a host of other disciplines that were studied by the former that were
unnecessary for coastal mariners. And when we crossed the mythical line into
the USA, the same expertise prevailed (except that some pilots favoured ‘left and
right’ in lieu of ‘port and starboard’).

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