A few hours later, the ship prepared to leave the port, and Captain Hobo screamed on the portable VHF radio, “Chief! Chief, where are you? We must depart now.”

Chief took it easy. He climbed up the steps and smiled. He said to me, “Remember…no rush. It will get you killed one day.”

We reached the aft part of the ship and stood at our positions. Captain Hobo screamed something from the bridge, but no one reacted because we didn’t understand him.

Captain Hobo screamed from the portable VHF radio, “Let go all lines[1]!”

Chief shook his head and released all lines. The port workers took all our lines from the port bitts and threw them in the sea. Our ship sped up while the lines were still in the sea. The winches were slow, so it was just a matter of time before one of those lines would be sucked in by the ship's propeller.

Captain Hobo screamed on the portable VHF radio, “Use your hands to pull it up!”

I tried to pull the big line with my hands, but I wasn’t sure who was pulling—me or the line. I managed, with some help, to get the lines up by hand. I thought to myself, “Why use the winch and hydraulics when you can use hands, right?”

Chief took me down to lower deck two and showed me the bosun[2], who shoved cloth rags all around the ramp located on the hull.

I asked the Chief, “What is he doing?”

Chief smiled and said, “He is plugging the ramp holes with…cloth before applying cement.”

I said, “Cement?”

Chief said, “Yeah…this way, on the sea voyage, we won’t…take too much water inside.”

I was confused and said, “Really, but what do you mean, take too much?”

Chief laughed and said, “It will still leak water, and…one crewmember will always sit here mopping up the water and…looking at the cement patches.”

I laughed and did a facepalm.

Chief said, “Maybe now…you will understand the Captain panicking…he probably thought how this ramp will leak into lower deck one, and…we will sink.”

I said, “The Captain knows about this?”

Chief smiled and said, “Of course.”

At the next port, our ship discharged its cargo. The port drivers drove the cars like they were on a racing track, burning tires and engines on brand new cars. They pulled handbrakes here and there just to spin the cars for fun, with high RPMs all the way. All this made me realize, do we really buy new cars, or in fact, do we buy burnout cars? Over time, these wannabe racers finished unloading all the cars from the decks. I was standing near the 2nd Mate.

Chief came closer and said, “Second mate…go on the upper deck and…put cones near the exit. We must be careful…that one of these guys…doesn’t miss the floor exit.”

The 2nd Mate nodded to the Chief, and the Chief left our company. I looked above the main deck exit and saw the upper deck exit.

The 2nd Mate said to me, “The upper deck can also be used as an exit. The ramp can be set on the main or upper deck, but we rarely do that.”

I asked, “Chief wants you to put cones up there?”

The 2nd Mate said, “Yeah, we have two old chewed-up cones. They are useless.”

I said, “Only two. Why don’t you order more?”

The 2nd Mate chuckled and said, “Order! Be lucky you get toilet paper and some food. As for the rest, the company will never send it. Sometimes I wonder how this ship even floats.”

A female foreman walked by, and someone shouted behind us, “Fresh pussy! Did you see that, boys, just like a peach? I bet when you bite, she squirts with juice. Pussy, come here, pussy!” The female foreman lowered her head and walked quickly.

The 2nd Mate and I turned around and saw a crewmember from the engine department. He was a tall and lean man with a sharp chin and cheeks, piercing hunter eyes, and a hawk-like nose that gave him a menacing and formidable look. His short, dark hair was matted with sweat and grease, adding to his rough and unkempt appearance. His clothes were perpetually stained with oil and grime, and his hands were calloused and dirty from years of hard labor in the engine room. He smiled with brownish teeth and grabbed his balls.

I said, “From what planet are you?”

The Greaser said to me, “What, you gay? Don’t you like pussy, huh? No wonder, look at you. I bet you didn’t even see pussy.”

The 2nd Mate said, “Hey, grease monkey, how long have you been on board already?”

The Greaser tightened his jaw and said, “Who you calling grease monkey? I work all day and night for six months. There isn’t a cleaner engine in the whole fleet. And what do you do? Huh, sunbathe your balls all this time, right?”

The 2nd Mate said, “Tell me, Mr. Company Man, what is the brand name of the ship’s main engine?”

The Greaser looked around, absolutely furious, and stormed back down to the engine compartment.

The 2nd Mate laughed like crazy and said, “Did you see that idiot? He doesn’t even know the engine name…I bet he doesn’t even know what pussy looks like. A lot of people with low brain functions or borderline insanity are here, all relatives to company agents.”

Our attention was drawn to the upper deck as a car engine revved. In an instant, a car flew over our heads, crashed front-first onto the dock, and then tumbled back onto the ship ramp. It felt like a scene from a movie set, not reality.

The 2nd Mate used his portable VHF radio and said, “We have a situation on the main ramp. A car just landed from the upper deck.”

The female foreman approached the scene, and the 2nd Mate helped the crazy driver get out of the crashed car. The driver wannabe looked okay, just some cuts and bruises. Luckily for him, the airbag didn’t deploy. He probably won’t do stunts like that again in the near future. Captain Hobo appeared and screamed for blood and the Chief’s head.

Chief came, and Captain Hobo screamed at him, “Fired! Fired! You are fired! This was the last time. Get out, get out!”

Chief didn’t say a word. He just looked at the car and the upper deck. Then, he glanced at the 2nd Mate and walked away. Halfway to the door, he threw the portable VHF radio on the floor before finally entering the superstructure. A crowd gathered around.

I overheard the 2nd Engineer, who said to the motorman, “We are leaking oil. Go tell them to turn on the main engine and set the propeller to rotate slowly.”

The motorman disappeared quickly, and soon the main engine was running. I looked over the ramp and saw the sea swirling, with oil slowly disappearing beneath the surface. The police and paramedics arrived. I pieced together what the port authorities and Captain Hobo were saying, despite the multilingual chaos. It was concluded that the Chief was responsible for the incident, and the company had to compensate the wannabe driver. The car was eventually scraped off the ramp with a forklift.

Moving to the next port, I overheard there would be a crew change. It seems a lot of the crew will be changed, even the Captain. I went on the bridge to check on the Chief. To my surprise, a gentleman stood on the bridge. A tall, proud figure, dressed in a fine suit with a shirt and tie. He was shaved, and you could smell his aftershave; his hair was short but with style. I made a curve to the chart room and stumbled upon Chief.

I whispered, “Who’s this?”

Chief nodded his head and whispered back, “It’s the…Captain.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Captain Hobo was no more a street bum, but a real Captain.

The Captain turned around and said to Chief, “Give all the crew extra overtime.”

Chief nodded, and the Captain addressed me, “Soon we will be approaching the pilot area, so go to your post.”

I nodded, speechless, and went off the bridge with deep thoughts on the Captain’s transformation. It was like he was trapped in some cursed Hobo form, and somehow, he managed to break the curse.

As we berthed in the port, the new crew was already there on the shore. When the crew came aboard, there was a young, tall, athletically built Chief Officer named Lock. He was shaved clean with short black hair, expressive eyes, a strong jawline, and high cheekbones. The Captain was a thin, middle-aged man with longer black hair and a Don Quixote beard. He even resembled Don Quixote although he wore rectangular, thin-framed glasses. Some other crew included the 3rd Engineer, who had a beer belly, longer white hair, and he spat saliva through his teeth when he spoke. The new bosun was a medium-height man with short black hair and a thick mustache that completely covered his lips. His shallow jawline contrasted with the fullness of his mustache, which was the most prominent feature on his face, drawing attention away from his less defined jaw. He talked to himself from time to time, and you could notice it as his mustache moved constantly. I waved goodbye to the old Chief Officer as he left the ship. No matter what anybody would say, in my opinion, the Chief just had some bad luck.