Innocent on the run. Part 38

Ricky ran to the dockside and to his great relief saw that the ship was still tied to the quayside. The only problem now was to get back aboard without the guard stopping him. He waited behind some packing cases trying to work out how to slip back aboard past the guard when a large box van pulled up at the gangway. The driver got out and opened the rear doors. ‘Muchachos,’ he shouted up to some crew members leaning over the side. ‘Por Favor.’ The crew trooped down the gangway and started unloading boxes from the van and carrying them aboard. Ricky slipped out from behind the crates, slid a box out of the van and carried it aboard. **** One week later, they were still confined to the ship in Havana. Most of the survivors had settled down into a routine. The time passed quickly if there was a little work to do, and Ricky had joined the crew of the freighter in painting the ship. The cargo was being unloaded and would take only another day, then they would start loading cargo for the return trip to Mexico. Ricky had asked the Mate if he could help in the painting, when he had got so bored that he felt like screaming. The Bosun had found some overalls for him and he had started on the superstructure. To go on the quay was out of the question as the guard was still at the bottom of the gangway. Ricky mixed with the crew at mealtimes and tried to learn a few words of Spanish. One of the crew could speak some English so they got along quite well. On the ninth day alongside the quay, they got the news that they'd all been waiting for. There was a ship sailing that night for Montego Bay in Jamaica, and they were all going on her. Everyone's spirits soared and the Jamaicans were in great humour, laughing and joking with everyone. Ricky had been with them so long now, that they treated him as one of them, and he was caught up in their enthusiasm. It was a very light hearted crew who filed down the gangway that evening, to board the bus that had been provided for them. The Spanish crew waved them off after they had all said their goodbyes, shaking everyone's hand as they left the ship. One of the Jamaicans started singing a calypso called, 'Time for man go home, ' and the others joined in, singing it all the way through the docks, to the ship that would take them to Jamaica. The bus pulled up at a large, smelly cattle boat that was resounding with the noise of pigs and cows. They filed on board and Ricky held his nose as the stench from the cattle pens assailed his nostrils. It was dreadful. The Captain came out on the wing of the bridge and shouted down at them to go inside, as they wanted to cast off. The smell of the animals was everywhere, a thick, cloying aroma that permeated every nook and cranny of the ship. It didn't worry the Jamaicans, but Ricky felt quite sick. They found the messroom and sat down to wait. The ship started getting under way, and after a few minutes the engine speed increased. The conditions inside the ship were terrible. The messroom looked as though it had never seen a mop or brush. Filth was ingrained in the deck and bulkheads, the furniture was battered, and stained from countless amounts of spilled food and drinks. A boiler for tea and coffee making was begrimed from being handled by very dirty hands, stained and blackened, with the piece of old oilcloth it was stood on, cracked and broken. Dirty and chipped mugs were scattered around, milk was spilled and left to harden in rings, and a bowl of sugar was lumpy and discoloured from numbers of wet spoons being left in it. Cockroaches scattered as people walked near them, scurrying back to their damp and dark dwellings, to hide before venturing forth again when the coast was clear, to suck at the sugar and partly eaten fruit that had been dropped on the floor and table tops. It was disgusting. Ricky stood rather than sit amongst this debris, holding his bag off the floor. The Captain of the cattle boat came in after a while, and told them that they would be four days on passage to Montego Bay. At the sound of the Jamaican port, a cheer went up from the survivors. They were very happy to be going home. The Captain grinned, exposing a huge mouthful of startlingly white teeth. He was a small round man with a black, cherubic face. ‘De boat look big,' he said. 'But most of it is for de livestock, so you have to sleep where you can find room. Of course, dere's plenty of room in de cattle holds, if you don't mind sleeping on straw.' He laughed, and his face split into a wide grin. `We had a complaint last trip, when a man slept with de pigs, that de smell was bad. It was de pigs what complained, man.' He roared with laughter, and the Jamaicans joined in. It was a huge joke, and they fell about, tears streaming down their faces. `Help yourself to the food and drinks,' he said and left them to return to the bridge. Ricky went exploring the ship to see if he could find a place to sleep that was not covered in filth. The passageways and ladders were encrusted with dirt, and he was reluctant to touch the handrails. There was no lounge that he could find, and after ten minutes of looking for a place, he gave up and went back to the messroom. One of the Jamaicans had been searching the boat as well and he came back and told them that he'd found a good place to sleep. A crowd, including Ricky, followed him and he led them down a deck and through a door. It opened out into a hold and there were pigs penned off at one end. The rest of the hold was free and there were plenty of bales of straw lining the bulkheads, so the men started laying it out on the floor, and laying down in it. Ricky did the same. There was no alternative. It was either suffer the unspeakable filth of the mess room or sleep in the straw, and the straw was much cleaner. Someone started singing calypsos, and the others joined in the choruses. They could make up songs about any subject that was named, and they had a great time singing about home, and bananas, ships and love. They eventually quietened down, as one by one the singers tailed off and slept. During the night Ricky was awakened by some tiny insects biting him, and he lay there slapping various parts of his body, until he fell asleep again. In the morning his legs and arms were covered in little red bites, from the fleas that had infested the straw. He ran to the bathroom and ran a shower, but all that came out was a trickle of rusty water, so he had to dress again, still dirty. Breakfast was some fruit that had been dumped on a table in the messroom. Ricky grabbed a Banana, an orange and a slice of melon, before they were all snatched by the Jamaicans. He took them up on deck to eat them as the smell below was dreadful. Not only was the odour from the ship bad, but twenty five unwashed bodies crowded into the mess room had their own aroma. The breeze was very welcome, as it was fresh air and also cooled the body a little. Though it was still early morning the sun was hot. Later in the day he would not be able to stay out in it for very long. The sea was as calm as a mill pond, the sun's rays beating down from a cloudless blue sky, heating the decks and sending small clouds of water vapour up as a fine mist. Ricky sat on a fairly clean part of the deck with his back against the superstructure, and ate his breakfast. He wondered if at last he was on the start of his homeward trip. It seemed like he'd been away for years. He was certainly more mature than when he'd left home a young, inexperienced boy. The experiences he'd gained and the situations he had found himself in, in the past two months, had done more to make him grow up, than years at home would have done. He'd had to think for himself, form his own judgements, and act on them, as well as to discipline himself to obey orders. He dozed off in the hot sun and woke with a start, as someone kicked his foot. `Come on, man,' one of the Jamaicans called as he went down the ladder to the deck. `We'se playing cricket.' They had chalked some stumps on the bulkhead and half a dozen of them were fielding, while one used a stick as a bat and another bowled a tennis ball at him. Ricky fielded out, and joined in the shouting when the fielders thought the man had been bowled out. The pitch was across the ship and people were perched on handrails and stood in the cattle pens as fielders. The cows looked at them impassively and continued chewing, while the fielders rustled around in the straw to find the ball. One of them had the others in stitches when he grabbed a handful of cowdung, when looking for the ball. They fell about laughing at his horror stricken face, as the dung dripped off his fingers. He wiped them in his trousers! There was nearly a calamity when Ricky, who was sat on the hand rails, leaned backwards to catch the ball and nearly fell over the side. One of the others alongside him caught him by the legs and two more rushed over to pull him back inboard. They all roared. They thought it was hilarious. Ricky was shaken for a while but the Jamaicans' sense of fun soon restored his spirits. `Hey, man,' one shouted ` Dat's no way to take a bath.' They played until lunchtime when one of the other Jamaicans came out to call them in to eat. It was rice and cold ham, cut into cubes, and one had to be quick to get a share, as it was placed in the middle of the table. The routine was to grab a plate and spoon, and dig into the bowls of food before someone pushed you out of the way to get his share. It was chaos, but done in good humour and high spirits. After washing his plate and spoon in the bucket of water provided, Ricky went back on deck. There was very little for them to do on board, so he followed the example of the others and sat in the shade, dozing. Once the sun had lost some of its power in the late afternoon, the men got the bat and ball out again and resumed the game of cricket. They were fanatical about the game, and not only knew the names of all the West Indian team, but also the English, Indian, Australian and South African teams. The game was, that if you got the batsman out, then you took over as batsman, and there were some hotly contested decisions, as the enthusiasm of the players wanting to bat, gave rise to some doubtful calls. Ricky caught a man out , so it was his turn in to bat, and he made such a wild swing at the first ball that three of the fielders grouped around him giving him advice on how to play defensively. They taught him the forward defensive movement, taking a step forward with the bat straight and the left elbow up in the air, and the rear defensive movement, swaying backwards on to your heel, covering your wickets, again with the bat straight up and down. They showed him the wrist movements to control the bat, deflecting the ball to either side neatly, and how to step out to meet a short ball and hook it for a boundary. They were very keen, and had been taught from a very early age how to play the game properly. Even with a piece of wood as a bat, and a tennis ball, their concentration when taking a stroke was absolute. The game ended when it got too dark to see properly, and they trooped in to the mess to get the fruit that had been left out for them. Once their supper had been eaten it was time to turn in again, and Ricky went back to the hold and lay in his bed of straw. He was getting used to the smell of the pigs by now, as it didn't seem to be quite so bad as it had been. The straw was comfortable enough, and he wasn't bothered by the fleas that night. Maybe they recognised a kindred spirit? He slept well after all the fresh air during the day. The following day passed very much the same as the previous one had, dozing and playing cricket. The food was exactly the same. On the third day they turned South into the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola, and headed Southwesterly around the southernmost tip of Cuba , making for Jamaica. The constant breeze was beautiful, and Ricky spent hours in the bows, breathing in the fragrant perfumes brought on the wind, breaking off only to eat. The Jamaicans also were spending their time looking out towards the horizon, waiting to get a first glimpse of their homeland. It was only with reluctance that they turned in that night, hoping that in the morning the beautiful island of Jamaica would be there in view before them. They were not disappointed, and at first light they were up on deck dancing with excitement at seeing their island off the port side. The ship was steaming well within sight of land and throughout the day they were able to name the towns and bays that they passed. Buff Bay, Port Maria, St. Ann's Bay, Salem, Falmouth. The coastline was very beautiful, with the lush green of the vegetation contrasting with the azure of the sea. Sugar cane, coconuts, bananas and citrus fruits were in great profusion along the coastline, standing back from the perfect white beaches. They sang songs and calypsos about Jamaica, until finally in the late evening they rounded the point at Donald Sangster International Airport, and steamed into Montego Bay. Copyright Deric Barry 2005.