Crude Carrier by Rex Burns

Author:Rex Burns
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
Published: 2014-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

XIV

The vibration of its engines muted to almost nothing by the weight of its cargo, the Aurora Victorious followed the outbound sea-lanes toward the Indian Ocean. They passed through the busy Strait of Hormuz at night, blinking lights indicating the through-shipping lanes and the median between them, and the running lights of other ships gliding up-channel. Beyond those, just at the edge of vision, a series of flashing lights marked Quoin Island. Distant winks located headlands invisible in the black, and a faint city glow indicated the town of Bahka.

When his alarm went off in the morning, Raiford crossed another day off his calendar, leaving a week and a half to go. A faintly light-headed feeling came and went in slow rhythm, and he realized that the carpet beneath his bare feet was gently lifting and falling. The vessel had shoved into the wider reaches of the Sea of Oman and was now answering to the fading surges of the Indian Ocean beyond.

Even the air from the softly whistling vents felt different: fresher, lighter. It teased him from outside the shelter of the bridge, and apparently the rest of the crew shared the feeling. Breakfast was served even more briskly than usual, and the ongoing watch, eager to move into the routine of travel on the open sea, ate rapidly.

For Raiford, the day’s schedule called for preventive maintenance on the radar equipment, inspecting the electrical connections from the scanner atop the mast to the plan position indicator on the navigation bridge. The idea, he was told by the third officer, was to do outside maintenance in calm seas and inboard work when they moved into the stormier seas below the equator. Raiford’s assistant was Sam who, a few days ago, had crouched over the spasmodic Charley, wailing something in Chinese. Now he showed a gold-toothed smile that said the crew was glad to be away from the sultry confines of the Gulf too.

“Ready for work, Sam? How’s Charley doing?”

“Charley fine. Back at work now.”

“Already? Pretty tough man, old Charley. Doesn’t he rate sick leave?”

“No sick leave. Man want pay, man work. Man get sick, man sent home. Somebody else come to take job.”

“What happens if a sailor gets hurt? Loses a hand or breaks an arm?”

A shrug. “Sent ashore. Sometime no repat.”

“No what?”

“Repat.” Sam twisted his mouth around the awkward sounds. “Re-pat-la-tion.”

“Repatriation?”

“Yes—repat! Many time hurt man is sent ashore to go hospital. But no repat.”

“They just leave him there?”

A bob of the head. “No work, no pay, no repat. Must stay healthy, yes?”

“What happens if he gets killed?”

Another shrug and Sam’s thumb wagging toward the ship’s rail.

“Over the side?”

“Oh yes.” He grinned. “No repat then, too.” He led Raiford up the ladder rungs welded to the mast that capped the ship’s towering island. Twenty feet above the open bridge and level with the rim of the deeply humming smokestack, they paused on a platform that had just enough space for them and the vessel’s middle running light. A second, thinner mast rose another ten feet to a platform even smaller.

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