My First Shipment as a Machine Student on the Steamship "Antonio de Satrústegui" / 1

In the office of the agent of the Vasco Asturiana Company, I had been confirmed that the ship “Antonio de Satrústegui” had a spot available for a machine student and that its stay in the port of La Coruña, the next day, would be six hours, enough time to refuel and continue its journey from Fowey, in southern England, to Itea, in the Greek Gulf of Patras. It was carrying a cargo of four thousand tons of sulfur for the vineyards of that country.

I quickly set about preparing my suitcase, settling accounts with the landlady, and saying goodbye to friends at the Otanagra, a usual gathering place over cups of ribeiro. From there, I called my parents and informed them that in a few hours I would begin my life as a sailor. I heard my mother sobbing and a faint, sad goodbye. I regretted not being able to tell Marisol, but at that time, we were also starting the practices that would be the prelude to a long life of stormy relationships that would culminate in the reward of precious grandchildren more than thirty years later.

Once I handed over the navigation notebook to the second officer, he introduced me to the captain, chief engineer, and the rest of the crew. At eight in the morning, the pilot boarded, and we began the departure maneuver. Leaning against the railing of the deck where my cabin was located, I nostalgically watched as someone from the dock waved goodbye with a large headscarf in hand. Unable to tell who it was, I returned the farewell. Once we were through the breakwater, the engines stopped to allow the pilot to disembark onto his boat, and he was sent off with two loud blasts of the horn.

After a few minutes, when the pilot disappeared into an emerging fog, I noticed that the engine wouldn’t start, while some sailors prepared to lower one of the lifeboats to immediately head to shore with two people on board. The captain, from the bridge, shouted, begging one of them not to take too long to return. After more than an hour of waiting, I watched in surprise as the boat returned with only one passenger. Once this person was hoisted and secured in their stowage, a few minutes passed, and I finally heard the engine start. We began to leave La Coruña to port until it disappeared on the horizon. At that moment, great doubts and uncertainties began to overwhelm me. At the same time, accompanied by a strong and until then unknown smell of fuel oil, the ship began to sway rhythmically and increasingly intensely, circumstances that forced me to retreat to my cabin and lie down on the bed without even removing the blanket.

Sudden knocks on the mahogany door of the cabin jolted me awake. For a few moments, I didn’t know where I was; I immediately jumped out of bed and prepared to open. Behind the door stood a small figure in a white jacket and black tie.

– Mr. Juan, I am Cambeiro, the steward; it’s twelve o’clock, the usual lunchtime. If it’s alright with you, you can come to the dining room where the rest of the officers are already present.

– Thank you very much, Cambeiro; I will be there right away.

After refreshing my face and running a comb through my somewhat disheveled hair, I headed towards my first social gathering aboard a ship. A long rectangular table, covered with a white tablecloth featuring the Company logo in the center, was positioned across the beam, presided over by the chief engineer at one end and the captain at the opposite end. On either side sat the officers: at the bow, the deck officers, and at the stern, the engine officers; arranged in a strict order of seniority to the right of their chiefs. Only the two officers who were on watch at that moment were missing.

In my case, and for obvious reasons, I was the furthest from the chief engineer, who suggested to his first officer:

– Sandalio, switch your seat today with the lad’s; I want to know who he is and where he comes from.

He agreed without much enthusiasm.

– That’s fine – the chief continued – but once the captain tells us why the illogical disembarkation of the bosun occurred.

The captain, looking like a venerable old man who had remained silent until then, showed a sad and worried expression, adding:

– Antonio, it’s a serious family problem, and to resolve it, I agreed to disembark him in the manner you all witnessed. We will sail to Itea without him; he will rejoin the ship after covering the travel expenses on his own.

– Lucas, please – he added, addressing the first officer – make sure his absence isn’t felt during the voyage.

Looking at the chief engineer, he remarked:

– Antonio, since it’s a very personal and intimate problem, I would prefer that he, once back on board in Greece, tell you if he thinks it’s necessary.

We all looked at each other with puzzled expressions and began with the appetizers. Despite feeling queasy from what was now a full-blown seasickness, I steeled myself to avoid the embarrassment of not eating. For the first time, I had the opportunity to appreciate how delicious Russian “chatka” is; the chief engineer had the kindness to welcome me aboard with this detail, having some cans of his own that he had acquired from the “entrepot” on board opened.

After the captain’s comments about the bosun incident, the meal passed quickly and silently. Once the Galician broth, fried fish, dessert, and coffee were finished, my new companions began to leave to enjoy their siesta, not without first bidding farewell and welcoming me aboard.

The chief engineer and I were the last to leave the dining room. We got caught up in a conversation that began with our geographical origins and family situations and ended with a description of the alternative engine that powered the ship. I had the impression that we liked each other very much. I got up from the table convinced that I had made the right choice in selecting my first training ship.

– Well, Juan, go rest a bit; tonight at 12 you will enter your first watch; I’ve assigned you with the second engineer, who is a rather taciturn person, somewhat odd in manner, but knows this ship’s engine better than his own body. He has been with the company for 25 years, most of them on the “Antonio de Satrústegui.” His knowledge of boilers and alternative engines was considerable.

– Thank you, chief; I greatly appreciate your interest. I am at your complete disposal and orders.

– Thank you, lad; I say the same to you. For anything that may be useful to you, you can count on my help. We will see each other again at dinner.

I didn’t go to my cabin. My impatience to go down and see the engine was great. After changing clothes, I headed to the access door: “Engine Room,” I opened it, and a strong blast of heat along with rhythmic and varied sounds welcomed me. Cautiously, I began to descend the stairs and started to hallucinate, as it felt like being in front of an immense machine of steel and brass that seemed to breathe or rather pant.

More than noise, it seemed like music. The whistling of steam through leaks from valve presses and stems, the hammering of the shuttle valve of the feed pump, the tapping of the joints of the bilge pump, and the characteristic smell of steam completed the atmosphere.

Under a large hose located in front of the machine control station was the third engineer. In shorts and bare-chested, he was cooling off in an inhospitable environment. He greeted me affectionately and after asking me what watch I had been assigned, offered to help with anything I might need, which I sincerely appreciated, and he celebrated with a knowing smile. The third engineer was responsible for the maintenance of the boilers, including water analysis. He accompanied me to the boiler room where he introduced me to Aquilino, the on-duty stoker. A friendly Galician of sturdy build who covered his head with a tightly tied white cloth and who only lacked the skull and crossbones tattooed on his forehead.

– You know, to keep the sweat out of my eyes…

The heat in this part of the machine was truly unbearable.

– Don’t worry, Aquilino commented, seeing the horrified expression on my face. You get used to this too, especially when you think of the seven mouths waiting in Cambados.

(*) Chief Engineer of the Merchant Marine

Photo: PWR (shipspotting.com)