Chapter 12
Rego went back to the cabin and decided to rest for a while. He had slept very little after the football match and his early and unexpectedly hasty departure from the apartment. He walked in to find Bolo still trying to get some sleep and his other roommate standing in front of the mirror, trying to perfect his hair.
“Hey, there’s the new guy. I saw you busing tables earlier. Welcome aboard, I’m Erik,” he said very chipper.
“I’m Rego,” he said shaking his hand.
“We didn’t have anybody on that bunk the whole last leg,” Erik said still staring in the mirror. “Glad you made it. The more the merrier, I say. Right Boly old boy?” he said throwing a towel at Bolo’s head.
“Leave me alone, and stop calling me that!” Bolo protested and turned his back to them.
Rego sat on his bunk, which had fresh linens folded up and sitting on the pillow. “Erik, your accent is much like another guy I met standing in the line, Lars. Are you from Holland too?”
Erik laughed. “Yeah, Lars and I are from the same school. We are here on a work-study program from the local university in Rotterdam. If you can learn Spanish, you can apply to work on these ships for a year and travel the world. That blowhard in the kitchen, Van der Berg, he’s from Holland too, unfortunately. He made permanent this past year and quit his studies.”
“Where are you from, Bolo?” Rego asked him.
Bolo rolled over again and began to speak in Portuguese. “I am from Lisbon. I can tell you are from my country as well, no?”
“Well actually I am from Brazil,” Rego said, answering him in his native language.
“Alright, no fair. I don’t know what the hell you guys are saying,” Erik complained.
“I’ve studied much about the old country,” Rego said. “I’ve always wanted to see it. I think my aunt had the opportunity to go there once. My grandmother said my aunt went on a pilgrimage to Fátima one year.”
Bolo sat way up on his bunk now, he loved talking about his home country. “Yes, a wonderful little town. It is a very holy place for all the Portuguese. You should go see it someday.”
Erik’s frustration grew ever more. He sat down on the lone chair in the corner. “Damnit! I don’t understand a word of that gibberish. And my Spanish sucks. Hey, Rego, are you a football fan?”
“Oh yes, I was able to watch the first match last night. Mexico played well.” Rego answered him, switching back to Spanish.
“I was so bummed when Holland failed to qualify. But those wankers in Belgium made it. I don’t know who the hell I am pulling for now,” he said grimly. “But I love to watch the matches.”
All three of them agreed on that point. Rego spoke up, “Hey, this ship is so fancy, do you think we might be able to watch some of the matches while we sail?”
Bolo shook his head, “Not out in the middle of nowhere. Not even with the radio we have in the crew area. Only if we are near a country somewhere that we can pick up a signal.”
Rego found that disappointing. He knew he wouldn’t miss a match if he were at home. But the experience of going on such a long journey was definitely a new one for him. Missing the World Cup matches wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. Just then, for the first time, he thought about how long it would actually take to sail the Atlantic.
“Do you guys know how long it will take for us to sail to the Med?” Rego asked.
Erik was back in front of the mirror again, “Around seven to ten days, depending on the seas. There is a map on the main deck that shows the estimated timetable and the ports of call that we will make. Go check it out when you get a chance.”
“I will. So you are on the same shifts as I am?” Rego asked curiously.
Erik looked at him through the mirror, “Yeah, I drew the damn breakfast shift this time around and the lousy dinner schedule. It’s not so bad, but those early mornings are a killer, and those meals are busy as hell. Bunch of pigs,” he said combing through his dusty blonde locks.
“These are rich passengers, aren’t they?” Rego said.
Erik shook his head in disgust. “It’s incredible the money running around on this ship. And the strange behavior they have. This one lady used about twenty forks this morning.”
Rego started thinking about his first experience on the job this morning. “I saw one lady with a strange hat, feeding her dog that rode around in a handbag! A dog, can you believe that?”
Both of his roommates laughed. “But you should see the women on this ship, man,” Erik drawled.
Rego lifted his eyebrow, “Oh yeah?”
“Absolutely. Passengers, even some of the girls we work with. They love my accent. You should come to the crew get-togethers in the break room at night. It’s a blast.” He stood there and kept combing his hair over and over again. “On my off time, I cruise the decks to check out all the fresh action, and let them gaze upon, Sir Erik!” he boasted, admiring the finished product in the mirror.
Bolo and Rego both shook their heads and smiled. “He’s loco,” Bolo said crawling out of his bunk. “I have to get ready for my shift.”
Rego stared at his bunk. “I can’t sleep now. I think I’m going to check out the rest of the ship.”
Erik looked at him, “Hey, don’t go out there like that, my friend. All those rich folks will think you are a stowaway.”
Rego looked down at his old clothes and then back at Erik with a big frown. He wanted to punch him.
“Here, you can borrow a couple of my shirts,” he said, throwing a couple at him. Rego caught them and looked at the shirts with disillusionment. “Go ahead, you’ll blend right in.”
Rego shook his head and pulled his old shirt off and put one of the borrowed ones on. “Thanks, I’ll see you guys later,” Rego said and walked out of the room.
The sun was shining brightly on the main deck and many people were out and about. Some strolled slowly around the main walkway that circled the entire ship. Others lay on wooden deck chairs reading books, chatting, and napping in the sun. Other ladies walked their small dogs on the deck with an attendant following behind them carrying a waste container. Rego shook his head in disbelief. “Incredible,” he said to himself. A few men played a game with long poles that Rego had never seen before. They pushed discs across the deck floor with the poles, down to a game board with numbers, several yards away. He soon learned the game was called shuffleboard. He stood and watched for a while as the men played.
He walked over to a railing and leaned against it with the sun in his face. He liked the way the warmth felt. It calmed his rattled nerves and made him forget about the awful men that met him at every turn. He thought about Rosa, and how she would love to see this ship. He knew foreign travel interested her and how she had always dreamed of going abroad.
He looked at the massive stack rising from the ship with smoke and steam rising out of it. The shear size of the entire ship astounded him. And since it was such a large ship, it sliced right through the waves, hardly rocking at all as she sailed along. After a while, he turned around to look at the water. He couldn’t even guess how high the ship was. And the water of the Caribbean, it was a color he had never imagined before. The water was a bright, crystal blue. And you could see underneath so easily. He watched as dolphins swam at the tip of the bow, racing along with the ship. They were so clear in the light blue water. He stood and rested his chin on his hands and just continued to stare at the blue sea.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a sweet sounding voice asked.
Startled, Rego looked up and to find a young girl, no more than twenty, standing next to him. “Que?” he asked, straightening up.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “Do you speak English?”
Rego shook his head and smiled at her, “No, no hablo Ingleis.” Her hair was light brown and long and straight, just past her shoulders. Rego thought sh
e was quite pretty. She smiled at him with small thin, red lips. He tried not to stare at her and looked away back at the water. He hadn’t spoken to a pretty young girl in a long time, it seemed.
“That’s OK, my Spanish is not too good either. I’m Lindsey,” she said extending her hand.
Rego shook her hand, “Rego.”
“Oh, I like that name,” she said and leaned against the rail and stared at the water with him.
Rego tried his best to talk to her. “You, um, Americano?” he asked in broken English.
“No, I’m from New Zealand.” Rego nodded at her. “I’m a hostess for all the English speaking passengers. Brits, Aussies, Americans, you name it,” she said. “I love to travel and I love people.”
Rego turned and extended his arm outward, offering to walk with her. “Oh sure!” she exclaimed. “I love this sea air, it’s so invigorating.” Rego smiled politely to her as they walked along the main deck.
She sure does talk a lot, he thought. And he had no idea what she was saying most of the time, but she was good company.
“This ship has been around the world, it seems,” she said. “I came aboard in New Zealand. I was so lucky to get the job. I couldn’t believe it. The trip over on the Pacific was amazing. I loved going through those canals, so fascinating. I noticed you earlier in the crew hallway. What part of the ship do you work in?” Rego looked at her with a clueless expression. He shook his head.
“Work? You, on the ship?” she tried again.
“Ah,” he nodded finally in understanding. “La cocina.”
“Oh that’s so neat!” she said excitedly. “I bet you are a great cook.”
He smiled and chuckled to himself as they continued walking on. They decided to go inside the main gathering area of I deck. There were paintings all along the walls, smoking chairs, leather sofas and rockers for the passengers to lounge in. The light fixtures along the wall were silver with decorative bulbs in each holder. Soon, they came upon a large map of the Caribbean, Atlantic and the Mediterranean. It had a dotted line drawn on it indicating the intended route of the ship from Panama, all the way to Athens. The map had various maritime coordinates at each stop and was marked precisely with each longitude and latitude line.
The two stared at the map and the route of their ship. Lindsey pointed to the route and traced her finger along the dotted line, “These are all the places where we will stop. Here’s Panama, then Montserrat, and all the way over to Gibraltar, Malta, Crete, and then Athens.” She nodded in anticipation. “Athens. I can’t wait to see it. Can you?”
Rego stepped closer to the map and pointed at it. “Malta?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she responded. “I’m very curious about that one, too. It’s the hidden jewel of the Mediterranean. I here it is covered with ancient ruins and many other beautiful things. Did you know that they speak English there? Amazing isn’t it? I should fit right in. Sometimes we get to disembark at the ports and do some sightseeing before we head back to sea. I love to shop around in the local markets.” She looked at her watch. “Hey, I better go, my shift is about to start. I hope to see you around, Rego.” He nodded to her and watched as she walked away.
He looked back at the map and stared at the small shape indicating the Maltese Islands. He shook his head at the distance it was from where they were currently. Just then, Erik came striding up alongside him.
“Why you sly dog!” he said cleverly. “Already picking up on Lindsey,” he said watching her walk away. Rego rolled his eyes at him and turned from the map.
“She’s a fox, that one,” Erik said, still watching her.
“Ah, she’s alright,” Rego said embarrassed. “She just came right up to me, that’s all.”
“Working that old Brazilian charm, eh? Very nice, my friend.” Erik said poking him with his elbow.
Rego laughed. “Yeah, what can I say? Maybe it’s the shirt. I didn’t understand a damn thing she said though, but she kept talking.”
“Yeah, she’s into you, buddy.” Erik kept prodding him. He looked at the clock hanging across the way on the wall. “We better get down to the kitchen, Romeo, or else Hector will blow a gasket.” They made their way to the stairwell that led to the kitchen deck. “Maybe you’ll see your girlfriend again.”
“Shut up,” Rego retorted.
Down in the dining room, the tables were being set for the first dinner at sea. Fresh seafood and vegetables and the finest wines and liquors were being prepared. Lars slowly placed dinnerware and empty glasses at each table. Rego followed his lead and did the exact routine at the other tables.
“So many forks,” Rego said under his breath.
Lars agreed, “Yeah, as if they need more than one. Or to eat again, for that matter. The evening dinner is the big one. Lots of food and the booze keeps flowing.”
“Really?” Rego asked. “What I wouldn’t do to have a beer right about now.”
“Forget it,” Lars responded. “Hector won’t let us drink at all the entire time we are on the ship. Only in port. But that goes for the whole crew, not just us. If you get caught, they kick you off at the next port.”
Rego tilted his head to one side, “Well, then you can drink all you want once they kick you off.” Lars laughed at him.
They worked for over an hour setting all the tables, filing all the pitchers with water, setting out small trays of butter, and folding clean white napkins into nice triangles at each place setting. It was tedious work but Rego picked it up quickly, still gladly favoring it over his last job.
At five minutes to six, the attendants stood along the far wall in a straight line and waited for the double doors to open. Hector walked around the dining room and inspected all the tables. The servers stood behind the buffet line with starched white chef hats on. At exactly six P.M., the doors swung open and a flood of finely dressed passengers began to stream into the dining room. The chatter grew louder and the servers and attendants quietly worked their way around the room attending to the passenger’s every need. The dining room personnel did their jobs like a well-oiled machine. If a glass was less than half full, a waiter would glide in unnoticed to refill it. Empty bread baskets were replaced with new ones without anyone lifting a finger to ask for more. Hector stood near the kitchen door observing his crew as they worked stealthily amongst the passengers with grace and promptness. He nodded in approval of their fine work.
Rego blended in effortlessly with his co-workers, removing plates, refilling glasses and serving tea and coffee. Soon each worker had their own section of tables that they attended to and stuck with this notion throughout the journey. Hector liked how they divided the work without being told, as long as the sections had equal amounts of responsibility.
One of the tables in Rego’s section was a boisterous crowd of American tourists. Three couples in their forties and fifties sat around the table laughing and joking and sipping on glasses of red wine. There was also a seventh person at the table enjoying the conversation. A man with a darker complexion and wore a priest collar and black button-down shirt and trousers. All of them spoke in English but he noticed the priest spoke with an accent. The ladies laughed with raucous enthusiasm at every word that was spoken it seemed. The more wine they drank, the louder they became. The priest would smile in amusement and make light conversation. He obviously knew the passengers well, but sat quietly for the most part, enjoying the meal and laughing at times at his companion’s antics. The priest was the only one who acknowledged Rego’s presence when he came around to refill the wine and water glasses. He caught Rego’s attention each time he refilled his glass of water. The priest would turn his head away from the conversation to say thank you, very quietly to Rego. Rego would nod each time, not saying anything in response.
As the evening wore down, the chatter began to fade and the people started to get up f
rom their tables and head to other sections of the ship for cigars and brandy and piano music. The table of Americans clumsily started to get up and leave, laughing the whole way out of the dining room. Rego held the chairs out for the ladies as they left the table. As they walked away, the priest stopped and turned to walk over to Rego and put his hand on his shoulder. Rego turned to face him in surprise.
“Señor,” he said in perfect Spanish. “Soy Padre Juan. Gracias,” and shook Rego’s hand.
“De nada, Padre,” Rego said very softly to the priest. The priest smiled and nodded to him, then walked out of the dining room.
As the days went by, Rego would walk around the decks of the ship, watching all the activity around him. He watched the people play shuffleboard and ping-pong. There were reading rooms inside the ship where people sat with old newspapers and novels and rooms setup with card tables for games such as bridge and gin. There were a variety of ways for the passengers to pass the time as the ship made its way east.
The sea became rougher as they approached the Lesser Antilles in the middle of the week. The sun was mostly hidden by the increasing amount of clouds in the sky and fewer people were out on the decks as the winds picked up. Rego remembered it was Wednesday, the day of the first match in the World Cup for Brazil. He wished he could watch the game or even hear it on the radio, but it was not possible so far away from land.
He walked into his cabin to see Erik in front of the mirror again. “Big party tonight, my friend,” Erik said to Rego through the mirror. “Get your section done early tonight and meet us in the crew area. There will be music and dancing.”
Rego sat on his bunk “That sounds good,” he said in a tired voice. “Kind of rough today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you get used to it. Doesn’t bother me,” he said flicking his hair back. “But it should make it interesting in the dining room. I can see Hector going insane if glasses start hitting the floor. Won’t be the first time.”
Rego lay down on his bunk. “Better get ready, big guy,” Erik warned him. “Don’t be late tonight. Hector almost jumped our ass this morning for coming in two minutes late.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Rego said yawning. The long hours on his feet were starting to take their toll on him.
“Remember, after work, in the crew area. It’s party time,” Erik said as he walked out of the cabin.
Rego knelt on the floor in front of the locker and pulled the key from his shirt. He pulled the string necklace over his head and unlocked the locker. He reached in and slid the leather satchel out and stared at it. He looked at the faded letters on the flap that read ‘ESB’. He rubbed his tired eyes and stared at the case and thought back to the night he encountered Jacomé. Why would Uncle Enso ask me to travel so far? What was in this case that would make him ask me to do this? He had no answer to his questions. He wanted look inside, but he remembered what Jacomé told him just before he died. And Rosa told him not to open it, too. He shook his head, then slowly slid the case back into the locker and locked it back.
He made it to the dining room just in time and started preparing the tables. The ship was rocking easily now from side to side. The weather outside on the sea continued to worsen. He tried hard to keep his footing as he moved in between the tables, placing the dinnerware and stemware all around each setting. All the workers had a hard time maneuvering around. As the steam trays were carried in, a nervous looking Hector stood nearby, talking rapidly with his assistant.
“The waves may only get worse,” he said. “We need everyone to use the utmost caution tonight. Nothing breaks tonight, you hear me?” The assistant nodded and dashed off.
The doors opened and the crowd streamed in for yet another first class meal. The laughing Americans sat around their usual table. Some of them stumbled around the chairs as they tried to sit down.
“Gee, I hope they skip the soup tonight!” joked one of the men. His name was Sammy.
“Yes, I will need a much larger glass for my chardonnay tonight, or else I may be wearing it,” his wife Alice said with a laugh.
Rego held the chairs out for all the ladies to sit down. Fr. John and the other men waited for them to be seated.
“Good evening, sir,” Fr. John said graciously to Rego. “How are you this fine blustery night?”
“Very good, Father, thank you,” Rego replied quietly.
He continued to help the other passengers in his section sit down at their tables. He went back over to the wall and stood and waited. Hector made a quick pass in front of Rego and said firmly under his breath, “No conversations, mister!” Rego gave him a sarcastic smirk behind his back.
All of sudden, Lars grabbed Rego’s sleeve. “Come on, we have to serve the plates tonight.” Hector had made a last minute decision to serve all the passengers at their tables so they wouldn’t have to stumble around the buffet line. So all the servers immediately lined up in the kitchen to grab large trays of pre-prepared plates to carry out to each table.
Rego watched as each server grabbed a large tray and hoisted it up and quickly carried it out. “This should be interesting,” he muttered under his breath.
Erik hoisted a tray above his head, “Let the circus begin!” he said striding out.
“Enough chatter,” Hector said above the laughs. “Keep it moving. Use caution, everyone!”
Each server carefully walked out to each table. Another server quickly set a tray holder at each table and the server set the large tray down upon it. All around the room, servers danced with their trays on the ever swaying floors beneath them. It was a carnival of folly to watch them all balance the trays and their feet as they made their way between the tables. But, not one dropped their tray and the meal went on without a hitch. Hector was near fainting at the end, but his crew had finished the evening with success.
Rego could hear laughter and music playing down the hallway as he approached the crew room. Inside, all of his co-workers unwound from the hectic night and stood or sat around chatting, eating, and sipping on cold sodas. An old radio on a ledge played some rock and roll. Erik saw Rego walk in the room.
“I’ve got good news and bad news, buddy,” he said taking a long drink from a soda bottle. “The bad news is we’re stuck.”
“What do you mean?” he asked curiously.
“We’re stuck off the coast of one of these islands, the one we were supposed to stop at, Mont something,” he said clumsily. “There’s some tropical storm in our way and the captain has parked us in a bay to wait it out. They think it is going north of us towards Cuba. We’re stuck here until it goes by.”
There was a small deck off of the crew room, but Rego could not see anything from the small window. It was too dark and the storm was very rough. “What the hell is the good news?” he asked.
Erik put his hand on his shoulder, “We’ve got a radio, my friend. And we are in the middle of an island chain. The match starts in ten minutes!”
Rego’s eyes widened. “The World Cup?! Brazil? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Nope, we’re already picking up stations with music. One of these islands has got to be carrying the match,” Erik said confidently.
“Who did they draw? Do you know?” Rego was very excited.
“The Czechs,” Erik answered. “Should be a good one!”
The two men and others pulled chairs around the radio while another feverishly turned the dials on the radio, trying to tune in anything. The radio crackled in the storm but a faint signal started to come through in Spanish. He put his ear closer to the radio. He started waving his hand to the people crowded around the radio.
“Shush, quiet, I can’t hear,” he said frantically. He listened to the voices on the radio: “The players have taken the field here in Guadalajara and the crowd is on their feet…”
“I found it!” he said loudly. The whole room che
ered and then quieted down and listened to the broadcast intently. He turned the radio as loud as he could. Rego slapped his hands together and leaned forward in his chair to listen to his country take on Czechoslovakia in the World Cup.
As the match played on the radio, other crew members came in and out of the break room. Lindsey walked in with several of the girls to see all the men listening to the game.
She shook her head, “I can’t believe it, they’re all in here listening to soccer!” She shrugged her shoulders and pulled up a chair. “Beats sitting on a rolling bunk.” One of the guys started handing them sodas to drink as they all listened to the game.
As the game played on, cheers would ring out after each goal was scored. Brazil scored a goal, but then the Czechs answered with their first goal shortly afterward. The second goal for Brazil was scored by none other than Pelé. Rego stood and danced around the room in celebration. Bottles of soda clinked together and people even clapped.
At the intermission, people stretched their legs and peered out the windows to see how the storm was coming. The waves lashed the sides of the ship hard. They knew the storm was still nearby. Lindsey watched Rego as he walked around the room excitedly. She wanted to talk to him, but it was difficult with so many people around and her poor command of the Spanish language. But, she smiled when he noticed her and tried to catch his attention. From time to time, her eyes would catch him looking over at her.
The roar of the crowd was heard when a third goal was scored. The radio announcers enthusiastically called the game. The Brazilians scored yet another goal and soon the game was well in hand. Rego smiled triumphantly. He was so happy he was able to hear his country’s first match. The Brazilians triumphed over the Czechs, four goals to one.
After the match was over, they tuned in some music and couples began to dance to the sounds of island music. Rego sat with a soda in his hand next to Erik, and savored the victory while watching the people dance. Erik got up and started to dance with any girl he could find.
Rego began to think about Rosa again. Dancing was something they did quite often at street dances. She was very good at the Samba and Cha-cha and had taught him how to dance them. He knew she was happiest on the Saturday evenings when it was warm and they would dance for hours out in the streets with crowds everywhere and the music playing
Lindsey came and sat next to Rego. “Hey there, sport, fancy meeting you here.” Rego smiled at her. He wished he knew what to say to her. He decided to compliment her and hoped she would understand.
“Esta noche pareces muy hermosa,” he said politely to her.
“Muy hermosa, me?” she said blushing. “Oh, thank you.” She sat and watched the people dancing. She was dying to get up and dance with them. She finally looked at Rego and motioned to the dance floor. “Do you wanta dance?” Rego pointed to himself and shrugged his shoulders shyly.
“Yes, you,” she said laughing. He nodded and stood and held his hand out to her. She grabbed his hand and jumped from her chair and they went out to the dance floor.
They started to dance the Cha-cha with everyone else. Rego was impressed with how well she danced. Lindsey was equally impressed that he knew the right steps. Erik and his partner danced by the two of them.
“You sly dog, you!” he shouted to Rego. Rego shook his head and smiled back at him. He was having fun dancing again with all his new friends.
It was close to midnight and the storm had calmed down outside, but the ship stayed anchored in the bay off the island of Montserrat. The party was winding down, but a few people were still dancing. Rego and Lindsey were slowly dancing the tango, but Rego had a hard time remembering the right steps. Lindsey looked at him as they danced. Rego tried not to look at her, though. He could feel her eyes on him as they danced. Her hands were soft in his and her perfume was intoxicating. He could feel her getting closer to him. Just then, Hector walked into the room with his arms crossed. The music stopped abruptly. Rego felt almost relieved to see him. He could tell Lindsey was trying to warm up to him.
“If any of you people are on breakfast detail, you had better not be in here,” Hector said firmly. “Time to wrap it up, people.” The crew moaned in displeasure as they started to head back to their cabins.
“Thank you for dancing with me,” Lindsey said sweetly to Rego. She was hoping he would walk with her back to her cabin. But, his cabin was just down the hallway. Hers was on the deck below. Besides, he felt too nervous and didn’t want to do anything more to lead her on. She squeezed his hand and smiled, then walked back to her cabin. Rego took a deep breath and exhaled long and hard after she left. He wiped his tired eyes and picked up a few empty soda bottles to throw away on his way out.