I sat helplessly, pretending to be a good host - amused at his jokes and letting out a dry laugh now and then in response, but all the while wringing his neck in my imagination and bestowing him such appellations as would not bear mentioning.
However, Samba Sy was not heedful of anything. The dinner before him was as good as he could ever hope to get. Moreover, he had managed to turn the tables on us, and like a master chess player, delegated me to the position of a check-mated king who was now bound to put up with his every caprice for as long as he would be with us. And to think that it was all my fault!
With him devouring my dinner a few feet away I recalled the ill-fated day I first saw Samba Sy. He was on a diet solely of biscuits then. He had suddenly appeared on the deck of our ship. The sun had not risen, yet it was light enough to recognize men at short distances. Strolling leisurely on the wings of the bridge, I was taking in the view of the whole ship. From this high vantage point one could see the whole ship stretched out before him - just as a seagull would see it - the ship and beyond, to the horizon on all sides where the vast ocean embraced the sky.
A beautiful morning , I thought - very quiet - till my eyes fell upon a sitting figure on deck. I did a double take - and then stared on and on till my eyes almost popped out. This man was not anyone of the crew!! Where did he come from?! We had sailed out two days ago and were right then seven hundred miles from the nearest shore. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out interminably on all sides.
I ran down to the deck and accosted the sitting figure. A face out of the deepest Africa, expressionless yet sombre, a youth in his mid twenties was before me. He avoided my eyes and looked straight before him with a mien that exuded a mixture of obstinacy and resignation.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Samba Sy" he replied.
Several questions and a good deal fewer replies later I managed to piece together the story of Samba Sy and solved the mystery of his sudden appearance on my ship in the middle of nowhere.
He revealed that he was a deserter from the Senegalese army. He threw his gun and uniform in the water by the wharf and sneaked one night onto a ship that he heard was sailing for Brazil. After coming on board he made for the after part of the ship and for some time hid inside the funnel. Finding it too hot for his comfort, he got out and quickly clambered into the lifeboat and hid himself under the thwarts. He lived off the lifeboat rations of biscuits and water and never once popped his head over the gunwale for fear of getting caught. On the second night he felt the engine in the ship's belly come to life, heard a rush of feet on the deck, the loud hoots of the tugs, and saw the lights of the port fade off gradually. He was off! At last Africa was behind him. For the rest of the night there was quietness broken only by the dull throb of the engine. The diet of biscuits had weakened him greatly, yet he did not come out of hiding till two full days had gone by. He imagined Brazil a beautiful haven for guys like him where he could hope to start a new and better and easier life.
Hang his easier life! He has already made life very difficult for us - the captain and me. What excuse was there for us to have allowed a man to sneak on board? Didn't the company offices in India wired us beforehand underscoring this possibility of a stowaway? So the captain took it out on me, and I went down and took it out on the bosun. Well, didn't I tell him to search every inch of the ship before sailing out? But the night of sailing was dark and Samba's complexion was dark as the night sky, and his hiding place was pitch dark too. So, all in all, Samba succeeded in embarking upon his surreptitious journey.
[to be continued]
However, Samba Sy was not heedful of anything. The dinner before him was as good as he could ever hope to get. Moreover, he had managed to turn the tables on us, and like a master chess player, delegated me to the position of a check-mated king who was now bound to put up with his every caprice for as long as he would be with us. And to think that it was all my fault!
With him devouring my dinner a few feet away I recalled the ill-fated day I first saw Samba Sy. He was on a diet solely of biscuits then. He had suddenly appeared on the deck of our ship. The sun had not risen, yet it was light enough to recognize men at short distances. Strolling leisurely on the wings of the bridge, I was taking in the view of the whole ship. From this high vantage point one could see the whole ship stretched out before him - just as a seagull would see it - the ship and beyond, to the horizon on all sides where the vast ocean embraced the sky.
A beautiful morning , I thought - very quiet - till my eyes fell upon a sitting figure on deck. I did a double take - and then stared on and on till my eyes almost popped out. This man was not anyone of the crew!! Where did he come from?! We had sailed out two days ago and were right then seven hundred miles from the nearest shore. The Atlantic Ocean stretched out interminably on all sides.
I ran down to the deck and accosted the sitting figure. A face out of the deepest Africa, expressionless yet sombre, a youth in his mid twenties was before me. He avoided my eyes and looked straight before him with a mien that exuded a mixture of obstinacy and resignation.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Samba Sy" he replied.
Several questions and a good deal fewer replies later I managed to piece together the story of Samba Sy and solved the mystery of his sudden appearance on my ship in the middle of nowhere.
He revealed that he was a deserter from the Senegalese army. He threw his gun and uniform in the water by the wharf and sneaked one night onto a ship that he heard was sailing for Brazil. After coming on board he made for the after part of the ship and for some time hid inside the funnel. Finding it too hot for his comfort, he got out and quickly clambered into the lifeboat and hid himself under the thwarts. He lived off the lifeboat rations of biscuits and water and never once popped his head over the gunwale for fear of getting caught. On the second night he felt the engine in the ship's belly come to life, heard a rush of feet on the deck, the loud hoots of the tugs, and saw the lights of the port fade off gradually. He was off! At last Africa was behind him. For the rest of the night there was quietness broken only by the dull throb of the engine. The diet of biscuits had weakened him greatly, yet he did not come out of hiding till two full days had gone by. He imagined Brazil a beautiful haven for guys like him where he could hope to start a new and better and easier life.
Hang his easier life! He has already made life very difficult for us - the captain and me. What excuse was there for us to have allowed a man to sneak on board? Didn't the company offices in India wired us beforehand underscoring this possibility of a stowaway? So the captain took it out on me, and I went down and took it out on the bosun. Well, didn't I tell him to search every inch of the ship before sailing out? But the night of sailing was dark and Samba's complexion was dark as the night sky, and his hiding place was pitch dark too. So, all in all, Samba succeeded in embarking upon his surreptitious journey.
[to be continued]
