The Black Tide

My first thought was to contact one of the Pakistani seamen. It was information I needed. How many guards on duty, for instance, where were they posted, above all, how long before we left and what was our destination? I closed the door of my cabin and stood listening for a moment, alert for those tiny sounds that occur on a ship at anchor so that I could identify them and isolate them from any other sounds I might hear as I moved about the ship. Somewhere a slight hissing sound was just audible beneath the low-toned persistent generator hum. It came from the heads where

the urinal flush seemed to be constantly running, and now that I was outside Rod Selkirk’s cabin, I could hear the sound of his snoring, a regular snort followed by a whistle. Occasionally a pipe hammered softly. An airlock, probably. And sometimes I thought I could hear the soft thud of the waves slapping against the ship’s sides.

Those were the only sounds I could identify. A torch; I’d need my torch. The quick flash of it in a man’s face could save me if I suddenly ran into one of the guards. I went back into my cabin, and after getting the torch from the locker beside my bunk, I had a last quick look through the peephole. The line of white marking the base of the cliffs was further off now. The wind must be coming straight into the khawr, the tanker lying wind-rode, stern-on to the cliffs. The deck below was a long dark blur, only discernible as a blank in the sea of broken water that glimmered white around it. I could see no movement.

Back in the alleyway outside my cabin, I pushed through the fire doors and started down the stairs to A deck. It was a double flight and I paused on the landing. The deck below was lit by the same low wattage emergency lighting as the officers’ deck. Nothing stirred. And there were no unusual sounds, the hum of the generator a little louder, that was all. I continued on down, through the sliding fire doors to the alley that ran transversely across the ship. I hesitated then, seeing the closed doors and trying to remember visits I had made in various ports to tankers

of a similar size. This would be the boat deck and usually there were offices facing for’ard at this level.

I tried one of the doors. It was locked. They were all locked, except one, which, as soon as I opened it, I knew was occupied. I cupped my hand over my torch, moving softly past a desk littered with papers to an annexe where the body of a man lay huddled in a blanket, breathing softly, a regular sighing sound.

He didn’t look like a Pakistani and the papers on the desk, accounts for food mainly, indicated that this was the chief steward’s office. As on the upper deck, the lift was switched off. Bolder now, I walked quickly down the port and starb’d alleyways. Most of the doors were shut, but the few that had been left latched open showed them as cabins occupied by sleeping bodies.

I went back to the stairs then, down the final flight to the crew’s sleeping quarters. There was a smell about this deck, a mixture of stale food and human bodies overlaid with the pungent scent of spices and the background stink of hot engine oil. It was a strange feeling, wandering those empty alleyways, knowing that all around me men were sleeping. Here and there I could hear the sound of their snores, muted behind closed doors, louder where the doors were open. There was one man with an extraordinary repertoire, the tone of his snores bass on the intake, almost treble when breathing out. I was at the for’ard end of the starb’d alleyway then and I could hear him quite clearly the whole length of the passage. I shone my torch on him, but he didn’t stir, and though I was

certain he was one of the Pakistani seamen, I didn’t wake him. The ship was so quiet, everything so peaceful at this level, that I thought it worth trying to have a look outside the superstructure before taking the irrevocable step of making contact with one of the crew.

There were doors to the deck at each end of the transverse alleyway, but they were locked. I went back up the stairs, moving quickly now. At A deck again I paused. I had already tried the doors leading direct on to the external ladders at the after end of the port and starb’d alleyways, also those by the lift. All had been locked and it was only on the offchance that I tried the starb’d doors leading out on to the boat deck. To my surprise these were not locked. Presumably the cox’n, or whoever had been in charge of the foredeck anchor party, had left them open for the convenience of the crew if the wind increased during the night and there was a sudden emergency. I stepped out into the night, the air suddenly fresh and smelling of salt. Straight in front of me was the starb’d lifeboat, the wind thrumming at its canvas covers.