AN AVERAGE DAY

It was an ordinary evening on an average Monday of April in a small town on the west coast. The atmosphere in this small town was dull on Monday night, especially on a winter night, when its main streets, which was called by the local usage; ‘the upper streets,’ ‘the lower street’, both now deserted – except those few kids hanging around with their noisy mobiles.

There has been much grim news in this small town. The first blow that hit the city was a notice that declared that the shipyard would be ending its operation, and shortly after that warning, all work ceased in the shipyard, after that, there were plenty of unemployed men walking and bicycling aimless along the streets.

Sadness grew over the city, and more depression was coming with the notification that, the plant which had produced auto cars for export, now made everyone to know that there will be risk to reduce the folk in the process, and the shift workers of the assembly line, may have their last wages on their hand within the next two weeks, or so. The result was an angry city of fourteen thousand people.

The unemployment rate jumped up in the city, and the welfare office got many new customers to take care of them

There was a pub down by the canal, it was almost without customers in that evening, just two drunkards with their shabby clothing were sitting at the bar, and in the far corner of the room at a single table were seen a man, sitting with his coffee.

A man wearing a black leather jacket and dungarees entered the pub; the man was around forty-five of his age with a pale complexion and a goatee.

The man halted in the middle of the room and glanced around the room, his eyes swept past the two drunkards, then fell over the man sitting at the table in the corner. He went over and still standing asked, ” Mind if I join”?

“Just sit down.”

“You are drinking coffee.

“Yes. I am by car.”

“I see. You’re not from here.”

“I’ve been living here long ago, now just stopping for a while to see the old places.”

The man in a black leather jacket dug his pocket and fished out two twenty pieces, showing the coppers in his open hand he said.” Not enough for a big one”, then added.

“Do you have some change,l I could have a beer”?

The man at the table bestowed three coppers over the counter. “This is enough for a beer?”

“Yes. Thanks,” the leather jacket said and got up, then went up to the bar holding the money in his palm. The bartender had vanished due to a few folk in the pub, the man in the leather jacket tapped the desk, a woman appeared from the back of the bar.” The long one to me ” the man said, and the woman filled the glass by pumping three or four times the handle. The man took the glass and carried it to the table. No one had put the music playing, and there was easy to hear what another was saying. The man sat down in the beer before him and said: “Thanks for the beer,”, then held his hand over the table.

“Tim is the name.”

And I am Henry” other said.

Tim dug up a bag of tobacco from his pocket and started to roll a cigarette; he talked to the other at the same time:

“I am a seaman, some seaman you know, for I haven’t a chance to sign on any ship for the last two years. I have dumped on the beach, like a marooned pirate, I have signed on the dole for some money, not enough for a living but handout. The job is hard to come. The job has been hard to come. There is no job for a man like me. There even not exists the labour exchange office for the sea folks anymore. They told me to write directly to the companies’ office, to make some CV as they call the application. Well, I will not write anything, anywhere. I have my discharge book, the seaman book, you know; it has been enough to certificate my ability to be a sailor.” Tim shipped his beer then went on. “They want to avoid to say to you right away, that you have been too long at sea, and there are young candidates to come, and they are much cheaper employers to sign on a ship. You tell me what will happen when things start wrong aboard a ship. I have seen the mate sitting on the bridge in his comfortable chair watching the electronic chart and the ARP radar. Many of them are not even able to recognize lighthouses by names whom they are making over.

I am dam a buggier if I will write one of those hopeless CV for nothing.”

“I know that all that you are talking about”. Henry said. “I am a seaman too. Now I am making my living for sifting boats and smaller vessels from place to place, from port to port, transporting a Tugs or something like that. There is just a trip or two.”

“You might need a couple of able hands there”? Tim said.

” I’m in a doldrums myself; there is hardly job enough for myself. But I may know some company which is short of men,” Hendry said and took out his blue small notebook, wrote something on it and rip off the leaf then pass it to Tim. “There is a phone number, call them and ask Harold, Harold is the Poss there. As I know, they are short of folk.”

Tim took the paper. ” I have heard about it. Thanks a lot. I will make a call to morning”.

The front door of the pub slammed, and a red-haired woman appeared in the doorway, wasting no time she came over. “Where you got the beer?” she asked. Tim without lifting his eyes from the table nodded toward Henry.

“This friend paid. I have invited him to our home”,

“You will invite every bugger you come across to our home”.

“Shut up. The home is mine, and I will invite whom I ever want.”

”I too live there”, the woman snapped.

“Please, don’t make abuse. I will not come”. Henry said.

“Sorry about this but I hope you come. We will have a lot to talk”, Tim sipped his glass empty and packed his tobaccos into the pocket and said, “Shall we go, altogether?” They walked up to the parking lot. There was a car. Henry opened the doors, and Tim said.“Volkswagen, Golf”?”

“Yes, it’s an old one”.

Henry drove out from the parking lot then took along the lower street. He drove in the directions consulting by Tim: “ Take along this up to the first crossroad and then to the left hand, “Along with this, then to the left” Henry repented.

”You repeat like the helmsman at a ship’s wheel,” Yes, it’s the habit.

It was now snowing, and the sides of the road shone in white in the headlights of the car. The drive ended under a line of trees, and a of low- roofing apartments showed up on the right side of the road.

“Better stop this car here,” Tim said. “There is no room for a car in front of the door.”

The apartment was little with two small rooms and a kitchen. While the woman was in the kitchen making coffee, Tim showed a place to Henry for the rest over the night. It was a small room, and its walls seem to cover with oil painted pictures. Henry took a close look at the pictures describing rural people in their daily duty: Henry inspected the image one by one; and found them not so bad. They had delivered with care and by skilled hand and eyes. “Who is the author of these pictures? Henry asked.

The woman came into the room.

“It’s me. the woman said.”

Are you going to sell them?”

” No, they aren’t good enough for marketing”,

” They are”, Henry said,

“You are the first one who likes my pictures, I want to become a good artist, but I feel I can’t be good enough.”

Tim came and said, “ Come on. That pitiful stuff”, There was silence for a moment, and then Hary said, “I like them.”

When they were sitting at the table drinking their coffee, the woman said. “My name is Lisa. I am awful sorry for what I said in the pub”,

“What’s that”?

“I was called you a buggier. It didn’t mean anything”,

“Never mind.”

, “Tim oppress me:” the woman went on. “ He even threatened to drive me out, and I have no place to go”.

“I ’m from Karelia, and I am going to keep up a tradition that women must shut up in the church as the Bible says”. Lisa bowed toward Henry, and whispered,

“He’s so cruel. But, he is wonderful in bed”.

Henry said nothing; he felt being an outsider of this little family where he temporally had visited.

In the next morning before ten o’clock, Tim made a phone call to the number he has got from Henry, He could hear the dial sounding like three long toot, and the woman’s voice said “: The Western charter company”,

“Could I talk with Harold”?

After a while, there was a man’s voice came on the line and said. “Harold”.”

I have heard you are short of sailors, I’m with no job, and I’m making this call asking for a job.” Harold listened and then asked. ” Have you been before afloat? What sort of certificates your hold?”

”My second mate ticket has run out because too little sea times within the last five-year, so I have my ab, still in my pocket. It will never run out as a rule says.”

“I see. I see. Harold said. “So. You are ready working as an a/b aboard a ship?” ”Sure I will”.

“The vessel has ETA at Kalmar in Swede, tomorrow afternoon and I am waiting for the info. The captain hasn’t given any request yet. Could you make a call to me around three o’clock afternoon? Then I will know more”.

Tim promised to do so, and after ending the phone call took a walk; he walked those three kilometres that made the road up to town and entered into Pub ‘The Old Master’, which was the second pub in the city and was meeting and polling place for the jobless seamen and the shift worker of the local chemical factory.

A couple of men was sitting at the table near the front door; As entering Tim was saluted by the men by hailing hello and cheered up for a passing moment from their dullness for seeing someone coming into the pub, hoping involuntary that the newcomer could carry some news with him.

One of the men sitting at the table under the window, was a senior man and had a large bulk and blonde beard, he rested his back toward the window, and his undressed jacket laid on the bench beside him, he was the painter - well-known in the town. He was working with the same idea and the same subject, the four-masted barque, which haunted his mind and kept him paint it again and again.

He was called as the ‘artist’ by the local people and knew his talent, not only with his painting work and his pictures with his pallet knife but also his ability to speak

He spoke as the best preacher, like an orator, yet one could say; there is sometimes much theatrical in his articulation.

The other fellow, sitting at opposite the table was a slim, weak-voiced man, former chief engineer, English styled hat on his head. He had been served on board large tankers, and when on last of them, he had fallen into a fit of paralyzes with the result of retiring. Now his dull and unmovable life is filled with these daily visits in that pub to meet the fellows’ seamen and to join a conversation than just for a drink, for he didn’t drink more than one a beer.

The painter either wasn’t very profitable for the pub for he used to drink only water from a tall glass.

Seeing Tim entering, the artist said.

“Who is that sophistical young man who is approaching our table?”

“Going to have a job, Tim said and joined the company.

“Where you are going to”? The engineer asked.“

“To Harold. I have to give a ring once more, and I think there will be no problem.”

“Harold!” The chief engineer exclaimed. “ He is Good man, but not start to speak about the payment. He will get mad at once when you mention something like money,“.

“Lady Mistress!” The artist hailed out calling the waiter. The female waiter came over picked up the empty bottle on the table and asked.

“What’s the problem here? Are you going to drinking something stronger than the water you have held all night?”

“Not at all, my lady. Not at all. However, I would like to ask you to be kind enough to bring a beer for this young officer who kindly will join our company. The bill of that the service you could address to me”, this saying the artist took out his purse and looking into it for a moment he very carefully picked out a bank-note of it, and passed it to the waiter,” “You have got money”? The waiter said.

“Never fasten with the money. The time is money; how much you have time the much you have money, and let me say this: – time I got more than enough, ”

It was half-past ten o’clock when Tim phoned again, using the phone in the pub, and yet the female voice in the line said;

” just a minute”, and the Harold came on the line.

“One man is paying off, and you could take his place. Will you come out here to our office to have your fare for travel to the ship. Let’s say around one o’clock tomorrow. You can take a bus and travel to Rauma, then you take a walk along the main street, towards the harbour, and when you come up a high block, you will see the number one on the corner of the block. Come in, and elevator yourself up to the fourth floor, where you can see the door of our office with a label on it, ‘ The Western Charter agent’,’. Did you get it?“ “ Yes all set, I am ready, just packing my things and then I will be underway at once.”

Tim hung up the phone and returned to the table.

“I have got a job”, he said to the company at the table, “I will boarding tomorrow ” Tim finished up his beer, stood up and with hoisting up his hand he exclaimed, “I am leaving now. There could be a lot of water flowing into the canal before you can see me here again.” “What ship that is”? The chief engineer asked. “First sound”. Tim said.

“Some old rust perhaps”?

“Will see.”

The artist tossed up his both hands and sang out a part of an old sailor shanty: “Out to the world we are going on our endless road. Good luck and Bon Voyage.“So long”, Tim said and went off.

It was well past noon as the bus arrived at Raumo Tim took his walk along the main street, and after a short walk he came up a whitewashed multi-storey block showing number one. By making an elevator upward on the fourth floor, he quickly found a door with the company’s name: The office of the’ Western Charter Company’.

A man opened the door. It was the manager, Harold himself and with no more question, he invited Tim to step in.

They went into the room, and Harold gestured Tim to take sit in front of the writing desk and took out a paper and said: “Better make the contract here so not need to do it aboard the vessel. You can take a copy of this with you.”A woman came into the room and said”, I have to arrange all the fares, and the ferry is going tonight at ten o’clock, you can have two hundred for the travel experience.”The woman handled an envelope over, and less than half an hour Tim was underway again, taking a bus and then the ferry. All the fares were paid and in order, including a cabin aboard the ship in which he spent no more than a couple of hours. When arriving at Kalmar it was morning, Pickin up up a nearest taxi and driving towards the port where ending his drive beside a vessel, it was the vessel He paid off the cab and taking his gears he embarked.

The Leasund was the vessel with her capacity to of 3400 tonnes and with overall length 46m. She was built-in Fredrikahawn in Denmark 1973 and was one of that box-shaped and after the housed vessel that was not made as a sea-boat but just for carrying the general cargoes and whose ages couldn’t be longer than ten years.

Upon embarking Tim came across a man standing on the deck, the man was the able-seaman that Tim was to be taken over. The man led him down into the cabin, and as he laid his gears down still holding his muster roll in his hand to carry to the master, he asked the man. “What kind of ship this is? And who’s the skipper?”

The man shook his head. “The skipper’s Leonard. The brother of Harold as everyone knows. We call him as little Harold. He is ok, but this vessel l… ooh ee, you will see. There are the deep tanks, some of em’ badly leaking, and no one knows where the water comes in. It’s is a working boat you know. Indeed on this ship, you must work; you will come to know.”

“What’s the next port”?

“Bound for St Petersburg, I think. in Russia.”

They went into the mess room where there were sitting four men at present drinking their ten’s o’clock coffee. The atmosphere in the mess room was very typical for every coaster mess room. It was a warm room thick with cigarette’s smoke, and as it was ten o’clock in the morning, there was the ‘ten’s coffee’ time.

The oldest man in this mess room sat at the outer end of the oval-shaped table, and though there never been style or habit in a Finnish vessel to introduce each other among the ordinary sailors, Tim already knew that man. The man was a well-known tug master who has lost his towing business and has lost his old tugboat too. Dramatically, during assistant a cargo carrier which ended by sinking the tug. Now he was holding the post as the second mate on board this vessel. He wore his leather jacket as he always wore and there wasn’t anything to see like a seaman in his outfit.

With Cheer, the crowd saluted to Tim as he entered the mess room. There was one of theme who sat in the mess-room, he was a sailor named Carl who has disappeared from the company group of that daily idle sitting drinkers and talkers of the Pub Master, withdraw of Carl caused speculations until one could tell Carl having to get a job in some ship, but no one didn’t know the name of that ship. Carl cheered an old buddy and wished him to welcome on board. As a home city fellow, Carl wanted to know how is going there without him, in his home city. “They try to come along without you Tim said, taking his place at the table.“Where is the captain”? He then asked.

“Up there in his cabin, I think”. Carl said.

“Want to give my papers. Tim climbed to the boat deck and tapping fire on a teak door and getting open it; he found a lanky middle-aged man that he took as Leonard, the captain. On 28th February there was news on the papers, It told a cargo ship been sinking in bad weather off the coast Norwegian. The crew of the ship, eight men, all told went with the ship with the except of two crew members whose bodies were found drifting wearing their survival suits. The same new told the ship been briefly made a call in Copenhagen in Denmark where the new captain has taken over, and after that, the ship was reported sailed out of the Skagen and on 27th February asking for help the last words of the captain was heard; “ We are seven men aboard.

The ship and the men never returned