The Captain's Log. Hans Psy.D. Mateboer

which would, when pulled, release the coffin, which then through an open side door, would drop into the deep. Our bosun, an experienced old salt, was in charge of the whole contraption and according to his own words, had dealt with similar situations numerous times.

      Of course, we did not invite all the guests to the service, after all, a luggage area is only so big. Only the closest friends were invited, and it was amazing how many there seemed to be. Our purser, handling the requests to attend the service, was less sure about the “friend” part of it. While talking to the captain, I overheard her stating that she believed that the invitees were more interested in a diversion on an otherwise normal day at sea, than in paying their respects.

      The ceremony was to be held at 5:00 p.m., and the ship would slow down. The day before, the crew spent hours cleaning and painting the luggage area, an activity overdue anyway, and at 4:00 p.m. the coffin was brought up to be placed on the ramp. The bosun had it organized perfectly; everything was well planned and nothing could go wrong. Carefully he directed his men to put it on the ramp and then opened the door to see that there was nothing in the way, so that when ready, it would be one smooth movement.

      A few sailors brought in the podium, from which the captain would lead the service, and they intended to put it next to the ramp. The bosun was still inspecting and making some last minute adjustments. After all, he had bragged enough, stating his expertise, and did not intend to let even the smallest detail interfere.

      Maintenance on board a ship is an ongoing thing, and often the engineers are swamped with work. All too often repairs in the passenger areas prevail above those needing to be done in those areas the guests normally never see. Sadly, a situation like this had occurred, and again a not-so-urgent repair had been postponed. The oil line, running from the hydraulic pump to the side door, which was opened to let the coffin slide through, had suffered from this neglect, and even while the floor had been cleaned thoroughly, a small puddle of oil had formed on the steel deck.

      “Okay, lads, put it there.”

      The bosun, directed his guys carrying the podium. Making one last step to position it, one of the sailors stepped in the small puddle and slipped.

      “Oooh.”

      Desperately trying to keep his balance, he dropped the podium and stumbled backwards towards the slide. The poor man actually could have gone overboard through the opened door, had not the bosun been in his way.

      “Hey, watch what are you’re doing,” he yelled when the staggering sailor bumped into him, and in turn tried to keep his balance and stay away from the opened door.

      His hands mowed through the air, in search of something to hold on to and found the lever.

      Swoooosh … splash!

      “Oh my God!”

      After that, there was a silence while everyone, including me, rushed to the door to see the sinking coffin disappear in the wake of the ship. The bosun, his face ashen, stared at the spot, where by now, only some surfacing air bubbles still indicated where it now slowly sank towards the bottom of the Indian Ocean. His mouth kept opening and closing, and for a while, he was only able to make some gurgling sounds. It was clear that he had great difficulties expressing his true feelings. What he said when he was finally able to speak, I will not repeat, as it was rather unflattering for the sailor who had given him the shove, even insulting, and very loud. But the same time, he also showed that during a lifetime at sea, a man could get used to making fast decisions.

      “Quick, close the door.”

      With one hand, he started the hydraulic pump, while with the other he operated the door closing handle. After it had locked, without wasting any further words, he hit the hydraulic line with a crowbar. Oil poured onto the deck in front of us.

      “Look what you did, you broke the pipe.”

      A slow thinking engineer stammered, his mouth agape. I, however, marveled at the fast thinking of the bosun. This truly was a man of action and quick cover-ups.

      “Why haven’t you started yet? The casket should be here now. In half an hour the guests will be here.”

      Nobody had seen the captain arrive, his well rehearsed speech in his hand.

      “Oh, Sir.” The bosun wailed. “The pipe broke, we can’t open the door. We left the coffin in the mortuary. We should postpone till tomorrow. I told the technicians to fix it, days ago, but so far, no action.”

      He continued in front of the engineer, whose mouth dropped open, not able to process in is mind what his eyes and ears were telling him.

      “Hmm, well, call it off then till tomorrow. It’s always something on this ship.”

      Mumbling to himself, the captain turned around and left.

      “You liar! You and your sailor pulled the handle and now you blame it on us. I’ll tell the chief. I’ll …” His hands in the air, the Engineer turned around to do what he had just promised.

      “Yea, go ahead. Then I’ll tell him that you are after that redhead passenger, and that I saw you in the nightclub with her last night.”

      With a visible effort the engineer turned around and forced a smile on his face.

      “Let’s fix the pipe.”

      That night, the ship’s carpenters worked overtime, how they did it, will always be a mystery, but the next day a brand new coffin stood ready, identical to the one we lost 400 miles back. The engineer, the one illegally chasing the redhead, had provided some left over pieces of scrap iron to weigh it down to what he believed to be the correct weight.

      Even after all these years, I still feel a little guilty about not speaking up as to what happened. On the other hand, the result of me doing so would have created a lot of problems. Maybe the captain would even have decided to go ahead with the bosun’s plan anyway. We will never know.

      The next day, again the area was cleaned and the guests gathered to pay their respects to their fellow passenger. The captain did his speech, and I saw that those few crew members standing around who knew what really was happening, had great difficulties keeping their faces straight.

      At the end, the captain gave a signal for the bosun to pull the lever, which he did for the second time in twenty-four hours. The coffin started sliding, and when it tilted at the edge of the door, we all suddenly heard a loud and distinct rumbling inside, when the steel shifted to the lower end. A puzzled look appeared on the captain’s face, but there was little he could do, as the coffin had gone straight to the bottom—maybe weighed down a little too much. Anastasia had found her resting place in an ocean she had traveled so many times.