Unlike the chain-smoking duo who had been bantering with the captain and first mate, this group was aloof but loud. Wearing quasi-military uniforms with the company name Risk Control embossed on the back, the foursome immediately went to work. I was on a cargo ship, traveling from Fos-sur-Mer to Dubai. Lorenzo had placed me in the curry powder category as soon as I boarded the ship and was fretting over the spice preferences of our newest crew members.
I guess they stole it all from your country. I had spent the past week walking around the deck of the ship with some of the crew on chipping and painting duty, one of the most ubiquitous tasks on a container vessel — a never-ending battle against rust and salt damage at sea. When the second mate told me I could spend time in the kitchen for the rest of the week, I was excited for a break from paint and diesel fumes, the dominant smells of cargo ships.
At the ship loudspeaker crackled alive and Elvin, the third mate, reminded us it was time to go to our quarters, draw the curtains and stay inside. Over the next hour, I heard occasional pops amid the general din of the ship container ships are loud places , and at midnight, once Elvin had come back on the loudspeaker to tell us the exercise was over, I sneaked back up to the bridge.
At night, the bridge is mostly dark, illuminated only by the glow of navigation screens and occasionally the cellphones of the seafarers standing watch. Soon after, the captain made his way up to the bridge and went outside for his routine midnight cigarette. Eager to chat about the armed guards, I followed the captain outside.
It was a beautiful, starry night, though the view was hindered by the exhaust fumes of the ship. However, an unprecedented upsurge in maritime piracy off the coast of Somalia from to led to the return of mercenaries as a security solution for ships. Ninety percent of global trade happens by sea.
