A Cabin of My Own and the Sliding Spider-Man of the Ship
A Twenty-Month Sanctuary and a Pillowside Luxury
I thanked him for his brief set of directions, turned on my heel, and took my leave. As I stepped away, I made a firm mental note to navigate this overwhelming industrial maze on my own. I was fully determined not to get hopelessly lost in this endless jungle of thrumming machinery, towering bulkheads, and crisscrossing overhead pipelines. Above all, I vowed to reach my newly assigned cabin without having to swallow my pride and ask a single soul for help on my very first day aboard.
Naturally, my grand determination collapsed almost immediately. I ended up walking in tedious, embarrassing circles, my heavy boots clanking against the steel floor plates as I repeatedly returned to the exact same spot time and again.
An oiler, who was wiping down a greasy valve assembly nearby, paused his work and observed my third orbit around his station. He asked me rather bluntly if I was completely lost and needed directions back to the accommodation ladder. Unwilling to admit defeat so early in my sea career, I tactfully claimed that I was merely conducting a thorough familiarization tour by inspecting various auxiliary machinery units. Satisfied with my cover story, I managed to dodge his watchful gaze on my next loop, scrambled up a steep grating, and somehow ended up stranded on the scorching boiler platform. Eventually, through sheer luck and trial and error, I managed to disentangle myself from the hot, noisy labyrinth of the engine room and finally reached the quiet sanctuary of the accommodation deck.
I unlocked the wooden door, stepped inside, and felt as though I had walked straight into heaven.
I loved my room instantly. It was to be my private sanctuary for the next twenty months — a compact, cozy haven crafted from polished wood paneling and sea-rigged brass fixtures. The cabin was thoughtfully equipped with a comfortable berth, a small settee sofa for relaxing, a sturdy writing desk with drawers, a couple of heavy chairs anchored to the deck, and a private attached bathroom. I whistled a cheerful tune as I unzipped my duffel bag and unpacked my crisp uniforms and personal belongings. This was a level of personal space and luxury I had never experienced in my life before.
Coming from a large, lively traditional family with four brothers and a sister, privacy had always been a distant concept. While we had never lived in truly cramped conditions at home, I had certainly never owned a private bedroom all to myself either. Furthermore, years of hostel living during my engineering studies — complete with cold shared bathrooms, damp corridors, and endless, frustrating waiting lines every morning — had been thoroughly exhausting. Here, surrounded by the steel hull of the vessel and the endless ocean outside, I had a private space entirely to myself, and I relished every single second of that wonderful feeling.
The crowning feature of this cabin — one that was surprisingly absent on all my future ships, even years later when I served as Chief Engineer — was a shiny call bell positioned right next to the headboard pillow, meant to summon the saloon steward. When I woke up in the mornings, all I had to do was extend an arm lazily and press the small metal button. Within ten minutes, without fail, the steward would arrive at my door bearing a fresh, steaming tea tray. It was an indulgence of absolute luxury that I never enjoyed again on any other vessel throughout my entire maritime career.
I finished unpacking my wardrobe, set my desk in order, and caught a few solid hours of restful sleep. When my alarm sounded, I got dressed in my boiler suit and headed back down to the engine room thirty minutes early, carefully factoring in plenty of extra time in case I ended up getting lost in the labyrinthine corridors once again.
When I successfully navigated my way back to the Engine Control Room (ECR), it was empty. Neither Pal, whom I was scheduled to relieve, nor the watchkeeping oilers were anywhere in sight. I stepped back outside the glass-paneled ECR and was looking around the gantry level when a sudden, unexpected blur of high-speed motion caught my eye from above.
High-Flying Stunts and Hidden Martial Arts
I looked up, and my jaw dropped in sheer astonishment as I saw a figure sliding effortlessly down the steep steel handrails of the engine room staircase. Holding onto the parallel round rails with both palms, his feet completely airborne, he zipped downward in rhythm: zip… zip… zip… Within a matter of seconds, he vaulted off the bottom railing and landed squarely right in front of me with a broad, beaming smile.
“Hi, I’m Pal, 5/E,” he said, extending a grease-stained hand with complete nonchalance.
“Hi, I’m Girisam, the new 5/E. If you had slipped on a patch of oil up there, you could have broken half your bones! Why on earth were you sliding like that?” I asked, shaking his hand in total disbelief at the dangerous stunt I had just witnessed.
He chuckled softly, brushing off my concern with an easy wave of his hand. “Going up, you have no choice but to climb step by step. But coming down, you can save valuable time and a whole lot of energy. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you the balance. By next week, you’ll be doing it too,” he said with a grin as we turned and walked together into the air-conditioned ECR.
I studied him with quiet curiosity while he checked the engine parameter logbook. He was short, athletic, with slanting almond-shaped eyes, and spoke with a surprisingly crisp, distinctly clipped British accent. The unique combination of his features and speech was wonderfully incongruous aboard a commercial merchant ship.
He looked up from the desk and smiled knowingly, catching my fascinated gaze. “I know what you want to ask, even if you’re hesitating to ask it out loud. My Chinese eyes — my mother was originally from Burma, and my dad was from Calcutta,” he explained casually.
“Was?” I asked gently, picking up on his past tense.
“I’m an orphan. My parents are no longer alive,” Pal said softly, his bright tone dropping for a brief moment into solemn quiet.
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, feeling a sudden surge of empathy for my young colleague.
An awkward, heavy silence fell over the control room for a moment. Struggling to break the tension and steer our conversation back toward lighter ground, I glanced at his agile frame and attempted a joke.
“So, apart from sliding down vertical staircases like Spider-Man, what other special skills do you have?” I asked lightheartedly.
Pal’s eyes glinted with sudden mischief. He asked me to raise both my arms. As soon as I complied, he stepped in close and pressed a very specific, precise pressure spot on my ribs with his index finger.
Instantly, my entire upper body went stiff. I was momentarily paralyzed, completely unable to move a single muscle, and to my horror, I couldn’t even manage to squeeze out a scream. The moment he removed his finger, the strange paralysis faded away completely. I rubbed the sore, aching spot on my chest and stared at him in absolute, wide-eyed astonishment, asking what on earth he had just done to me.
“Karate. I’m a black belt,” he mentioned casually, checking his wristwatch. “A light chop to the side of your neck, and I can knock you out cold in a second.”
“Wow,” I said, genuinely awestruck by my eccentric new shipmate. After spending a few more minutes running through the operational checklist and briefing me on the current state of the main engine, he gathered his belongings and took his leave for the day.
Contd…
Enjoyed this story? Want to read the full story?
You can support my independent writing and get access to the full library, exclusive digital bundles, and art prints on Patreon:
- Join Tier 1 ($3.00/month): Get full access to this story plus all past and upcoming essays, mythological retellings, and e-book collections.
- Buy this single story ($3.00), Joining My First Ship: Download the complete file to keep forever.
Thank you for supporting my writing journey! The next chapter arrives soon!
Join as a member today to unlock the story and read ahead as new chapters are released
Leave a Reply