The Captain's Journal: Captain Hans Mateboer Sails Again

Journal.

Chapter 1

Discipline

Life at sea in many ways is somewhat similar to that of the Army or Navy. Rules and regulations need to be upheld more so than in comparable businesses ashore, but our rules can never be as rigid or strongly enforced as in the armed services because we’re a civilian organization. A working middle-of-the-road way has to be found. Of course, not every ship faces the same challenges. It doesn’t matter very much on a cargo ship if a crew member shaves each morning, but on a cruise ship our guests appreciate a clean and crisp look.

Most of the rules on board are related to safety, and very few people question them. Sometimes a new crew member needs an explanation as to why he can’t put his trolley laden with delicacies for that party next door at the most convenient place because it blocks the escape route or why can’t he go ashore anytime he likes with all his friends even when he is off-duty, because a minimum number of crew must stay on board in case of an emergency.

On a cruise ship, crew also need to be more aware of each other when going about their daily activities simply because we are housed so closely together. A party on a cargo ship could easily involve the whole crew, while on a cruise ship a party often involves only a certain department. If it becomes too noisy it can easily disturb the sleep of others who have different working hours. This happens sometimes and security has to intervene. Sometimes it’s brought to my attention.

There were problems in the officer’s bar last night, the hotel manager told me on the phone. It should be in the night report.

Haven’t read it yet. Here, let me check. I put on my glasses and clicked on his email. Oh, brother! Apparently a few crew had been at each other. I read on, because something like this doesn’t happen that often.

What? She scratched another   crew member crew member crew member crew member on the face and then poured beer over him?

Not a him, a her, he answered. That girl has been nothing but trouble, late for work, drinks too much, insults to others. Last week, she damaged the sound equipment and we had to cancel the show. I really think it’s time we said goodbye to her.

Hmmm … I tend to agree, but it’s better to have security investigate the whole thing. Before you know it, we overlook something, and I have a wrongful dismissal on my hands with all the hassle that goes with it, I answered. After all, dismissing people is one thing, but it’s up to the captain to make sure everyone is treated fairly. How often has it happened after looking further into a clear-cut case that just about every sure fact becomes questionable?

A few days later my security officer delivered the report himself.

It took you long enough, I snorted. I didn’t think something like this would take that long.

He blinked his eyes nervously and started to clean his glasses with a paper napkin.

Sorry, sir. It was a bit complicated. Maybe I’d better stay while you read it so I can answer your questions.

I started to read it and halfway through I stopped. It was indeed complicated. I started reading again from the beginning. I did this three times before I looked up.

Can’t make heads or tail of it. So this Keeley scratched her boyfriend Donny? I asked.

No, sir. That’s why it took so long. I had to rewrite the report several times, and this is as clear as I could get it, he sighed, as if I were some child who couldn’t understand his report.

Donny is the boyfriend of Kelley. Keeley’s boyfriend is Dirk, but he isn’t involved here because he was with Angela at the time. Keeley scratched Kelley because she was talking to Donny. She used to be Donny’s girlfriend. She also punched her, and it could have been a lot worse if Kylee hadn’t interfered.

Kylee? I searched for that name in the report. Oh yes, here it is. So she interfered. Good for her.

Yes, sir. Her boyfriend’s name is Mark. He wasn’t there either, but the barkeeper is a witness and his name is Mark, too. Just for your information, sir, because I don’t want to confuse you by not mentioning this.

Ahh! Well, thank you for that. So it really looks like Kylee – I mean Keeley had better go home. I sighed. Did you do an alcohol test?

Yes, sir, but the problem is that after the infirmary did the two tests, they got confused about the names and mixed up the test results. Can’t understand how that could happen.

I looked at him and frowned, having a pretty good idea how this could happen.

You’d better set up a court for tomorrow so I can hear it from the horse’s mouth. So what does Keeley look like? Blonde, brown…?

They’re all blonde, sir, except Mark.

I thought you said Mark wasn’t involved.

I mean Mark, the bartender. He has black hair. But don’t worry, they’re easy to recognize because Kelley has blue eyes and a scratch on her cheek. Kylee and Keeley have brown eyes. It’s easy enough once you know what to look for.

I sighed again, because I started to wish that for recognition purposes at least one of them had a black eye. I sent the security officer away and studied the report a few more times to make sure I had it all straight.

The next day, we met in my conference room – the chief engineer, chief officer, hotel manager, and the human resources manager all reading their copies of the report. The chief engineer had even more problems getting the facts straight than I had the previous day. With a growl, he threw the report on the table.

You know, I don’t understand a thing of all this. I thought that this Keeley was dating one of my guys, but apparently I’m wrong.

The Human Resources Manager laughed. She did, but that was two weeks ago. After that she dated Donny and now it’s Dirk.

The hotel manager joined in. I know Dirk. Isn’t he the sound technician? I thought he was seeing…

It was time to break in before I lost track of all the names again. It had cost me enough time as it was to get everything straight in my mind. The security officer stuck his head around the door.

They’re here, sir.

Send them in.

The first to enter clearly was Kelley. Nice looking, but way too heavy on the makeup. Then the others came in, but who was that brunette? The only one I was sure of was Mark, because he had black hair.

I turned to Keeley.

So you misbehaved in the bar and harassed others. There now have been numerous complaints about you, so what do you have to say for yourself?

Sternly I looked her in the eyes. They were blue! Quickly I scanned my notes. What were they again, brown or blue? Before I could find out, Kylee exploded.

Complaints about me? From who! I never did anything wrong, only stopped a fight. She pointed at the brunette standing next to her. She’s the one you need to talk to!

Wait a minute now. I exclaimed. Where is Kelley? She should be here, as well."

I’m Kelley, yelled the girl I thought was Keeley. Who did you think?

You told me she had a scratch on her cheek! I hissed at the security officer standing behind me. She overheard me.

I’m Kelley, and I have a scratch. Took me an hour this morning to cover it up. I never use this much makeup, but do you really think I’m going to walk around with that thing on my face?

But then, where is Keeley?

I’m Keeley, the brunette said, stepping forward.

You told me she was a blonde! I turned to the security officer again, who by now had a thoroughly confused look on his face.

Oh, that, Keeley smiled. I didn’t like being blonde anymore, so yesterday I had my hair colored brown. You like it? she asked coyly.

"Yes…I mean, no! Oh, never mind the color. So you assaulted Kelley, and Kylee interfered. Her boyfriend Mark witnessed it all.

I’m not her boyfriend, the bartender chimed in. I’m dating Dirk now.

Yes, you’re right, I got it turned around. What do you mean you’re dating Dirk? Just forget it. I don’t want to know.

I want to know! I’m dating Dirk," Keeley yelled.

Well, not since last night. He’s with me now! Mark gloated.

The court lasted another ten minutes in which the Dirks, Kelleys, Keeleys, Kylees, and Marks were freely mixed up with even more names of both sexes. At some point in time Kylee had insulted Simon when he was dating Kelley. Donny was not entirely innocent either, because he hadn’t paid his bar bill in months, and on and on it went.

The chief engineer lost track early on and glassy-eyed, stirred his coffee while I made a small spreadsheet to better understand the whole situation. It was of little use because each time one girl opened her mouth, I had to add another confusing fact. In the end I dismissed them all.

The hotel manager rummaged through the desk drawer. Thought you had some aspirin here. Got a terrible headache. So what do we do now?

I rubbed my eyes and looked at the security officer who by now had taken an interest in studying the ceiling. Then an idea came to mind, maybe not the most ethical one, but a very bright one all the same.

Why don’t you just write another report? One with the conclusion that the issue is too complicated to investigate further, and we’ll leave it at that.

Everyone’s face visibly brightened, because after all, this was the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Chapter 2

Kitchen Inspection

Those who have never worked on cruise ships might wonder what this story is about after reading the title. The crew of every cruise ship on which I’ve sailed knows exactly what I’m talking about, even those who’ve been in their jobs for only a few months. It’s the weekly check of every food preparation area on the ship, whether it’s the bars, pantries, storerooms, or kitchens. The inspections are carried out by the senior officers and are very thorough to ensure that the highest possible food safety standards are met.

Having worked on these ships now for many years, I am often amazed at how poorly many shore establishments compare to the high standards on board cruise ships. One of the side effects of having done these inspections so many times is that I expect every place I visit to measure up to similar standards. Because of this I have embarrassed my wife on several occasions when we go out for dinner and by a stroke of fate, we’re seated in such a way that I can catch a glimpse of the kitchen operation. Invariably I go through the checklist ingrained in my brain. Pffff! No time or temperature control! My God, raw meat stored on top of cooked meat! Can I believe I’m watching the cook taste food every time with the same spoon? My wife will roll her eyes and try to hush me up, but usually to no avail.

Walking out of a restaurant is a fairly uncommon thing. The manager usually asks the reason for this sudden departure in an effort to save a customer or to make a show as to how much they care to know why. Rarely is the answer appreciated. Managers invariably turn red in the face and undoubtedly wish to never see you again. I’m only too happy to comply.

Standards on cruise ships haven’t always been this high. In the old days rules and regulations weren’t taken very seriously. The manuals were there, sitting on the highest shelf hidden under a collection of discarded knives and unused utensils. In most cases these books were only used to show that we knew what we were talking about.

Oh yes, we adhere to the latest guidelines, an executive chef would say, arrogantly patting the books and closing his eyes to avoid the accumulated dust blowing into them. That the book was still shrink-wrapped with a sticker dated seven years earlier conveniently escaped his attention.

Standards also varied greatly by which part of the world the ship sailed. In the United States, things were a stricter than almost anywhere else. The people on board made a difference, too. Some were lax, while others pushed more to uphold standards. On ships that sailed outside the United States for an extended time and with easygoing management on board, one could find some unusual surprises.

As a newly appointed safety officer, I was very excited when setting out for the first time, aware of all the responsibilities going with the job. I was assigned to the oldest and smallest ship owned by the company, but just the right type for a novice. She had just returned to Miami after years of service in the Far East, and now she would sail the Caribbean until the company could sell her for a reasonable price. This didn’t affect my happy anticipation at all. Many others, in particular the captain, didn’t share my happiness, or so it seemed. His previous ship had been our flagship, making cruises around the world, and I wondered if something had gone wrong and that he was sent to this ship as punishment. He didn’t have a bad reputation at all. On the contrary, he was known as a fair but strict man – one not to be trifled with, but also one who wouldn’t make anybody’s life difficult without a solid reason.

One of my responsibilities was to be part of the kitchen inspection team each week, a duty I took very seriously. I found out quickly that the main reason for my being invited to participate was not so much the need for my expertise, but to relieve the more senior officers of the group from the boring chore of record keeping.

I was at least ten minutes early for my first inspection, and I’d been notified that the team would assemble outside the hotel director’s office. He was an old hand on the ship and known to be a bit of a character. While waiting for the others to arrive, I couldn’t help but wonder how two people with such different personalities like his and our captain’s could successfully work together. Through the open door, I saw him sitting in his undershirt, drinking coffee and with a tray of sticky buns in front of him.

I’ll be there in a second, he yelled. Let me put on my shirt.

The captain, who’d just arrived, was clearly unaccustomed to being kept waiting, and he immediately started showing signs of impatience and aggravation. The hotel director came out a few minutes later, licking the crumbs and sugar from his fingers.

Let’s take the main kitchens first, the captain announced gruffly. He walked off without giving us another look, clearly expecting to be followed.

A bit edgy today, isn’t he? the hotel director inquired. I shrugged, not wanting to get drawn into whatever was going on between the two highest-ranking people on board.

Well, not to worry.

We entered the kitchen at the bakery, and he headed straight for a tray with a beautiful selection of cookies.

Oh! Look at this, he exclaimed. Let me see, maybe one chocolate chip and a peanut butter cookie. Here, take some. They made them especially for you. He held the tray in front of the captain and me. The captain looked at the tray with a deep frown, and with an abrupt move grabbed it and slammed it down on the counter, spilling quite a few cookies onto the kitchen floor.

Crew are not allowed to eat in the kitchen. That goes for us, too. Give the good example, will you?

The hotel director looked astonished, and he put an uneaten cookie in his pocket, while quickly stuffing the half-eaten one into his mouth.

Forgot about that, he mumbled apologetically.

We walked on to the butcher shop, with me dutifully recording whatever remarks the captain had. To my surprise we found another tray with goodies. It was a selection of fine meats and delicious sausages, all cut into bite-sized portions. The butcher, a jolly round-faced man, picked it up and held it in front of the captain.

Please take some, sir. Look, this carpaccio is the best. I’ll put some on this little plate for you.

At first it looked like the captain was going to take a piece, but then he pulled himself together.

What do you mean with this? I said no food can be eaten in the kitchen! Those are the rules!

The butcher started to laugh, seriously misreading the captain’s outburst.

Yes, we know, but Captain Munroe liked to have his little bites during an inspection. Cookies in the bakery, a little selection of meats over here, sushi in the fish preparation room. We don’t mind, you know. Wait till you see what the pastry chef has put together.

The captain’s face slowly turned red during the leisurely explanation of the butcher, who didn’t hesitate to put a few morsels from the tray in his own mouth.

I’m not Captain Munroe and get out of here! If you don’t stop chewing this minute, at least close your mouth when doing so! the captain erupted. Abruptly he turned around and walked toward the fish preparation room. We left an astonished butcher behind, his mouth still open and ready for the little piece of sausage he was holding halfway between the tray and his mouth.

In the fish room, everything seemed to be all right at first. The crew, having been alerted of the wind’s new direction regarding eating in the kitchen, had quickly removed any evidence they thought would further upset the captain. The fish chef was all smiles and his area spotless, which did a lot to improve our commander’s mood. Surveying the room, I saw a tray of sushi in one of the garbage bins, half covered with some hastily gathered regular garbage. Almost finished, the captain opened a walk-in fridge that bore a sign pronouncing it Out of Order. His mouth dropped open at what he saw, then he turned around to us.

A fiddle? he asked incredulously.

Oh, no sir! This is a violin and we play here together. This room has incredible acoustics, the fish chef explained, happily producing the bow from a filing cabinet then putting the violin under his chin to play a tune. The man was so eager to explain that he didn’t notice the veins at the captain’s temples had started to bulge, nor did he see our hotel director behind the captain, making violent horizontal movements with his hand at his throat.

I’ve been teaching Bill for a few months now and he’s becoming quite good.

Bill? Bill who? the captain asked, his voice sounding as if he had trouble breathing.

Well, I mean Bill, the hotel director. His voice slowly trailed off, his gaze shifting from the captain to the hotel director’s contorted face. Finally the chef was getting the message, although from his puzzled face, I knew he was completely in the dark as to exactly what this message was.

Bewildered, the captain slowly turned to look at Bill, and Bill quickly left the room ahead of the wrath of his boss. Before the captain could go after him, somebody came in from another entrance at the opposite side. Taking no notice of us, he started complaining to the fish chef.

Hey Mat, you promised to bring me those salted raw herrings. I need them right now.

And who might you be? the captain roared, forgetting the hotel director and taken aback by the total disregard this new person on the scene seemed to have toward him.

Me? I’m Ernie. I prepare the appetizers. Without acknowledging us any further he turned around again. Now come on, Mat, give me those herrings. I don’t have all day.

Our captain clearly had difficulties trying to decide whether to get angry with Ernie or to satisfy his curiosity as to why he needed salted raw herrings. After a brief internal battle, curiosity won.

What do you need salted raw herrings for? Not as appetizers, I hope!

No, man, of course not. It’s for the caviar.

The caviar?

Yeah. We ran out of it months ago, and we’ve been making it ourselves ever since. Saves us a tidy bit of money too, and I can use a few extra dollars for my kitchen, I’ll tell you.

Without the captain noticing, I saw the hotel director roll his eyes. He’d returned and was peeking carefully around a corner, listening to