Today I am sharing a letter written by my cousin, Dipankar Deb, to his elder brother. He has been a seaman all his life and the letter tells about some of his scary and hilarious experiences. I shared his recent article in my G+ page. 

At Manila, 26^th July 2011

Hi Ramu/Dada,

Truth be told, I rather enjoyed my sojourn at sea.

As you will recall, I was the first person in my batch to clear the 2^nd Engineer Exam, and amongst the few early birds with my Chief Engineer License Exam in Yr ’73.

I then joined Wallem Hong Kong and was promoted to C/Eng after a year, and sent on a crude oil tanker.

As I had never worked on a tanker before (these were the days before IG Systems, and all the other safe-guards that were ushered in after a couple of horrendous accidents), the Indian Chief Officer took me around (at that time the norm was for Officers to be mostly from India, with crew from the Philippines).

On entering the Cargo Pumproom, I looked down and found a vast pool of oil with nothing else visible. On pointing this out to the C/O he was totally shocked to view a sea of oil where there should have been a pump room with steam pumps.

We spent the next few days groping around in the oil to find and activate the remote control rods for the submerged steam pumps, and then pumping out (back to the oil tank) without further unpleasant surprises.

There were many such close shaves and even life-threatening incidents along the way, such as a head-on collision at full speed with another vessel, an immediate burst into flame of both vessels (being tankers), my going down to stop the engines prior abandoning the vessel, my returning on deck to find both lifeboats already lowered and well away (even though I had told the Bengali 2^nd Engineer and Kannadiga Master to hold one boat for me), all crew members off except the Indian C/O and one Indonesian Oiler (who had helped me to stop the engines).

We could not escape in the inflatable life rafts as we were now surrounded by burning oil escaping from the vessel. So the three of us had no option but to fight the fire with whatever make-shift methods we could devise. We managed to keep the flames from engulfing the aft of the vessel and were literally saved by a passing tug boat.

The tug boat had no fire fighting foam, and mentioned that they would get some from the nearby Indonesian town of Plaju. Being aware of the possibility of them going to sleep prior returning (all of this taking place in the middle of the night), we broke open the Bonded Locker and placed all the bonded alcohol and cigarettes on the Bridge wing as their prize if they could hurry up.

They sure did hurry up and sprayed the vessel with foam till at around 7.30am (about 10 hours since the collision) the fire was put out, and our champion crew sheepishly returned to the vessel, which was still afloat, but with the forecastle missing, the front cargo tank badly damaged, and the crude oil in that tank totally burnt off or leaked into the sea.

Anecdote – It appears that the Owner (Bruce Rappaport) angrily exclaimed to the attending senior management in Singapore “what kind of ship staff do you employ? Don’t they know that I could have made more money from Insurance if the vessel was a total loss?”

So much for the value of heroics, though we were given bonuses, and I was made a Supt based in Singapore. That episode was short-lived as in the Year 1978, Singapore was one of the most boring (and slightly troublesome) places to live, hence I opted to return to sailing after a few months. More on Singapore later.

I must also not forget to tell you about my good friend Saddam of Iraq (may he rest in peace), and how he literally saved my job.

We were on a big White Oil Tanker in Kuwait loading Kerosene, Aviation Fuel, High Speed Diesel etc segregated in separate tanks. We had just finished dinner and I was on the Bridge along with my good friend Capt Lund (a Norwegian), when the Indian C/O came running up in consternation, and told us that the Aviation Fuel tank had got contaminated with HSD. We ran down and found that the Aviation Fuel Cargo tank had acquired a sickening dark color, thus rendering the Aviation fuel useless. This would entail a loss of millions of dollars to the charterer, and he would take it out on the Owner, who (aside from having the Insurance Companies breathing down his neck) would demand the immediate banishment of the concerned incompetents (meaning Master, C/O and me), and possible sanctions such as review of our licenses etc – in other words, we were staring at a dramatic change of circumstances for yours truly.

In despair we returned to the Bridge to contemplate our resignation letters (to avoid the ignominy of being summarily sacked). Only God or Saddam could have helped us to get out of this horrible mess, and Saddam answered our prayers.

At around 9.30pm, we heard a loud explosion from the shore tank farm, followed by further explosions and fire streaking to the sky from the damaged tanks that had caught fire.

Saddam’s invasion of Kuwait had begun.

All other vessels were ordered to immediately cast off and sail, while we were kept alongside by the shore authorities in a desperate attempt to empty out the oil tanks adjacent to the burning tanks, to save as much as they could.

They then pumped all types of mixtures into our tanks and thus polluted the segregated fuels even more – and let us off the hook.

Since then, I have always harbored a soft corner for our dear benefactor Saddam, and was indeed distressed to see him being dispatched so ingloriously, just because cowboy George hated his guts, and cooked up all types of yellow powder and WMD tall tales to go to war with six-guns blazing, leading to the crowning moment of George framed against a backdrop of fighter jets on an aircraft carrier declaring ‘VICTORY’. Tom Cruz couldn’t have done it better, though they will pay for their mistakes for many years to come – but that is another story.

I must off course admit that the photo-op on the aircraft carrier sure looked good on TV, and, if you follow the comic books – well worth going to war for, give or take a few hundred thousand (mostly Iraqi) dead bodies (which could be passed off with a shrug and the timeless gringo comment “shit happens”).

The above is just an illustration of the rather exciting lifestyle that was still available to seamen a few decades ago. The present-day situation is changed beyond recognition, with strict rules and regulations, and the senior officers under personal threat of jail, and huge personal fines, by any country that deems that you have violated their arcane laws.

I managed to leave active sailing at a most opportune time (1994), when at the urging of Rajiv Dhanda (our 1 year junior from Bombay, and my boss in Singa Shipmanagement) I took up a Super’s job under him in Manila.

I was put in charge of a BOT (build, operate, transfer) scheme for a pair of Kvearner Fjellstrand all-aluminum 370-seater super-fast (34 knots or around 60 kph) luxury ferries (fitted with night vision) for the Philippine local trade. We built them at a shipyard in Singapore, brought them over to Cebu, operated them for a year, and then handed over the vessels to a local company that, within a year, ran it into the ground and sold off the vessels at a major loss.

Reason – vessel traveling with 200 passengers, but only 50 tickets issued (the rest giving underhand token payments directly to the staff). We had kept strict control of such activities with random firings at the slightest suspicion, but, under the locals, everybody was in on the game, from the Company President downwards (the President even appropriated some of the office computers and opened up a computer training institute). It was a hilarious fiasco to watch, and it was an object lesson of how ‘not’ to do business in the local environment.

I was then pirated (in Yr 1999) by a good Norwegian friend Alf Andersen to open up a ship management company.

I set it up from my house (including all Govt licenses/permits/clearances), and took over our first vessel in October ’99 while still operating with 3 staff (Secretary, Accountant and Supt) who would report to my house daily. We had a phone line that could also be used for faxes, and we had my personal computer – and that was it.

This feat can no longer be duplicated, as, due to the advent of ISM and other strict IMO policies, it is no longer possible (as of Yr 2001) to set up fly-by-night ship management companies from residences, post boxes etc.

We finally managed to get a proper office (near my house) by the end of the year, and due to the success of the first vessel, started getting more vessels (from the same Owner) for management.

Things went from bad to worse (for my life-style that is) as we ended up with 13 very specialized, fully computerized cement-handling vessels with environment-friendly self-discharging capability trading Worldwide (with an office staff of 24 and a sea-going staff of over 300).

In Yr 2007, we sold the company lock-stock-and-barrel to one of the biggest privately owned shipping companies in the World (KGJS of Bergen, Norway), for a huge sum, with the selling Owners making out handsomely (from an initial investment of less than 20% the sale price), and we were all retained full time by the new Owners as per the sale agreement, which stipulated that I and my staff would have to stay on for a minimum of one year.

This chapter finally closed end November last year, when the office was disbanded, and management transferred to Singapore and Bergen.

I was then tasked to close the office, including negotiating severance with the staff, and all Govt formalities. So I can quite proudly say that I attended the birth of the company, and its demise too. And now I lead the life of a country gentleman with golf, and girls, as the main attractions (though not necessarily in that order).

Is there anything I would have done differently given a second chance? I must emphatically say no.

It all worked out in the end, and, as we have come to realize, it is the end game that finally matters, it is the inner peace we attain that puts us at ease, it is the thought of a stress-free tomorrow that fills our lives with the scent of roses, and, finally, when we are ready to cross over, we can do so in the full knowledge that we truly lived well, as decent citizens, honorably, and without regret.

Jai Maharaj.