Leaving New York

Chapter 2

The following day, after I packed and turned in the keys to my landlord, I started my adventure by taking a long, expensive cab ride from Manhattan to the Scandinavian Shipping Office near Port Jersey's Marine Terminal in Bayonne, an enormous container port. The clerk in the office pulled my file when I got there. In a Scandinavian accent, he said, "You are to start today. I see in the folder from the interview last week you have no experience, but you are willing to take the 'utility steward' position, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know the job is pretty basic—washing dishes, laundry, and housekeeping. Later you might become a steward, which involves helping with meal preparation."

"I'm also a retired fireman—I saw where you need those sometimes."

"You'll have to talk to the captain about that; he just has 'stewards and wipers' on the list for new hires. The ship is loading now at Dock 14—get back to her by four so you can board." I had two hours to kill, so I wandered around the docks with my heavy backpack. A couple of guys in semi-trucks gave me funny looks as I struggled along the waterfront, but it didn't look like it was against the rules just to look around. Three similar containerships were loading or unloading by giant cranes. I'd read that the big ships could carry up to 23,000 containers and that 90% of non-bulk cargo worldwide is transported by container ships. I didn't know much about my boat, S.S. Delusen of Pedersen Lines, so I sat on a stack of tires, looking up her specifications in my phone. She was a Panamax vessel, which meant she could go through the Panama Canal. Built in 1991, she had a length of about 300 meters (about 1,000 feet) with a beam of 32 meters and draft (depth) of 12 meters. She would max out at about 4,000 containers (4,000 semi-truck trailers.) God, that was still a lot. As the cranes stacked more and more containers on her, it started raining hard. I ran to a bit of an overhang under one of the cranes until a guy in a security car pulled up.

"What are you doing out here?"

"I just got hired as crew on the Delusen; they told me to wait until four o'clock to board." I tried to sound like a knowledgeable sailor, but from his expression, he wasn't convinced.

"You can't just wander around—it's dangerous." Rain blew everywhere, soaking my shoes and pants. I didn't know what to do or say—I still had an hour to go before I could 'embark.'

"What can I do?" He looked around to see if the coast was clear. "Get in."

"Huh?"

"Get in the car, but be quick about it."

I picked up my bulging backpack, threw it in the backseat, and jumped-up front with the guy.

"Thanks so much."

"I could get in a lot of trouble for this."

"Like I said, thanks."

"Well, I got to keep making my rounds."

"Sure sir, of course."

We drove around past several cranes and a railroad switching yard.

"I'm Jack Neil."

"Hello. This damn rain makes my job a bitch; I can't see anything."

"Yeah."

"So, you're going to crew on the Delussen?"

"Yes, sir."

"Always thought sailors were a little crazy—I like to be at home with the wife every night." The guy looked to be about my age, sixty-ish. He had a big beer belly, but he wasn't somebody I'd  want to tangle with.

"I'm just doing it to get to Europe and travel; I'm retired."

"Oh yeah, what'd you do?"

"I was a fireman."