Sooner by Schooner!

Rusty old cargo ships, known locally as schooners, are the lifeblood of Caribbean trade. “Captain” Brian Samuel recounts some recent voyages

In maritime trade, most cargo ships are also allowed carry a few passengers on every voyage. The number of passengers they can carry is usually limited to twelve; after which the ship would have to be re-classified as a passenger vessel.

Many lifetimes ago, I used to work in shipping, and I’ve crossed the Atlantic several times in cargo and passenger ships. It takes a while to get used to life at sea; ten days with nothing on the horizon but the horizon itself. In those days there was no television or internet; your only contact with the outside world would be the scratchy short wave radio. There’s just you, the crew, your books and thoughts for company. But once you get used to it, once your mind and metabolism slow down to match the pace of the ocean, there’s nothing quite like a long ocean voyage, to relax and rejuvenate you at the same time.
Actually, that’s not quite true. An ocean voyage can be relaxing and rejuvenating – it can also be hell on sea! Just ask passengers from the Costa Concordia: in ships when things go wrong; they can go very wrong. However, for the most part traveling by sea is still one of the safest means of travel – if not always the most comfortable.

My first rough trip was on board the late great M/V Federal Maple; two weeks from Jamaica to Grenada, stopping at all islands en route. This ship, and her sister the Federal Palm, were gifts to the West Indies Federation from Canada, and for years plied a regular route up and down the islands. By the time I boarded the Maple in Kingston in the summer of ‘72, as a 19-year old student at UWI, the old girl had seen better days – much better. I was traveling at the lowest fare class: deck passage. Which meant just what it said: you find yourself someplace under the stars and lay down your foam mattress – and hope it doesn’t rain. There was a sort-of accommodation hold below decks at the back of the boat, but you needed a really strong stomach to venture down there; for one thing the hold was awash with of swishing bilge water, which also seemed to contain a fair amount of the effluent of the vessel.

From Jamaica to Saint Kitts is three days of hard sailing directly into wind and sea, rocking and rolling all the way. Even though I had crossed the Atlantic several times before, on that particular voyage I was constantly seasick – as a dawg! Eat-puke; then don’t even think about eating again. The only silver lining was that this baptism of fire cured me of seasickness forever. I’ve been through some pretty rough seas since then, but I usually manage to keep my dinner down. Usually.

We disembarked at Basseterre Saint Kitts, ferried to shore by small boats or lighters. As I walked unsteadily down the swaying jetty, I was surrounded by a posse of Kittitian boys.

“You from Jamaica?”

“Yes.”

“You have ganja?”

“No.”

You have ratchet knife?”

“No.”

In unison they all kissed their teeth; then moved onto the next disembarking passenger! Fast forward a few decades later and I again found myself on board some of the Caribbean’s less salubrious trading ships – which hadn’t improved any with the passage of time. Among the Eastern Caribbean there are many such vessels; discarded old European ships that long ago failed any internationally recognized safety tests, and found themselves washed upon the lawless shores of the Caribbean. Here they continue to eke out a living for their owner/captains, moving from port to port as the trade demands – the original tramp steamers.

Perhaps due to its very island nature, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines is the Caribbean leader in the maritime industry. The country has an open ship registry (what used to be called a flag of convenience), and thousands of ships worldwide now fly the Vincentian flag; whether for convenience or otherwise. Many Caribbean schooners are captained and crewed by Vincentians; it’s in their blood.

So far I have travelled on two of these schooners; which for the purposes of this article shall remain nameless (I may need to travel on them again!). Weather permitting; it’s actually quite a pleasant trip from Grenada to Trinidad, about 12-13 hours overnight. However, it is not for the faint hearted. These schooners are the living embodiment of the word “unseaworthy”; any half qualified marine surveyor would have conniptions at the state of some of these vessels! Rusted and broken stanchions (railings); important pieces of deck equipment just hanging around and falling to bits; clumsy cargo handling gear; atrocious accommodation; zero safety features and rust, rust and more rust everywhere. In one of the ships, what passed for a lifeboat was a broken old dinghy haphazardly lashed on deck and swamped with all kinds of junk. To be fair I did see a couple of inflatable life rafts, but I wouldn’t want to bet my life that they were in working order.

Every Tuesday evening, three vessels sail from Saint George’s bound for Port-of-Spain: Ocean Princess II, Little Desrine and Eldica David all departing at around 8PM and arriving Trinidad by about 9-10AM the following morning. A fourth vessel, the Mary G, sails from Grenville, arriving at the same time. In addition, vessels arrive from St Lucia and Saint Vincent – the CARICOM wharf in Port-of-Spain can get pretty congested on a Wednesday morning.

There is very little cargo moving southbound, mainly agricultural produce like yams, plantains, bananas and whatever else is in season; all packed in pallets and loaded on board using the ship’s cranes (there are no shore cranes). The process for loading fuel is even more haphazard; the ship’s cranes lift enormous drums of diesel from trucks, swaying ominously, invariably spilling fuel in the process. The loaded drums are manhandled into position in the hold; from whence the fuel is siphoned off into the ship’s tanks – more spillage.

On this trip I was accompanied by my friend Mike Edmund, otherwise known as Zoo. We were off to Trinidad to do what everyone else does: buy stuff. Bring your own foam, cooler and sleeping bag; and find whatever space on deck that looks reasonably clean. Correction: whatever space that isn’t absolutely filthy and covered in oil. Fortunately, the seas that night were calm, which made our sleeping quarters (i.e. the deck) a fairly pleasant night under the stars – apart from the brief shower at two o’clock in the morning. We all crowded into the companionway, waiting bleary-eyed for the squall to pass; then headed back out to our appointed spots on deck. Apart from the constant smell of diesel fuel, which fills your nostrils and impregnates every item of clothing, you can get a fairly decent night’s sleep.

We awoke to the beautiful sight of the northern range of Trinidad, looming in the distance. Approaching Port-of-Spain you thread your way through the islands of the Bocas, plus dozens of man-made obstacles: ships at anchor, oil rigs plus any numbers of passing craft in the water. We passed close by Carrera Island Prison, Trinidad’s own version of Devil’s Island. It’s only half mile from the shore but the waters are said to be shark infested. Right on cue, we passed close by a huge shark in the water soon afterwards. Last year a prisoner escaped, a real bad john; they caught him 9 months later. We docked at the CARICOM wharf at 9:00AM, squeezing in between Ocean Princess and a Vincy boat; grimy, grubby but happy!

With all Trinidad’s oil money, downtown Port-of-Spain has changed out of all recognition: there are new skyscrapers galore! The enormous fast ferry to Tobago, T&T Spirit, swept majestically past us on her way into PoS; while her opposite number was just heading out in the other direction. Added to that are the four 300-passenger capacity water taxis that ply the PoS-San Fernando sea route, and Trinidad and Tobago is well served by way of water transportation.

By comparison with the journey southbound, where the vessels are almost empty, for the northbound leg they are all loaded to the gills, with an assorted cargo of soft drinks, steel rods, building materials, foodstuffs, gas bottles, car parts, diapers and practically everything else that Grenada imports from our industrialized giant to the south. Sleeping space on deck is always a valuable commodity on the return trip. By this time I had realized that the alternator for my Pajero was never going to be re-wound by Reno’s Electrical in time to make the return trip on the boat, so I decided to extend my trip and fly back. Of course that could never be a simple process; and after one hot sweaty morning tramping up and down Wrightson Road from the CARICOM Wharf to the Immigration Department and back – several times – I finally got my treasured visa extension; and my passport back. Zoo was returning with the boat on evening – or so he thought.

After several delays, Zoo’s boat eventually sailed for Grenada at around nine PM. By ten it was back in port. The steering gear had broken; they wouldn’t be going anywhere that night. Zoo had to sweet talk the security guard into letting him out for the night, because technically he hadn’t re-cleared into Trinidad. The following morning, repairs were made to the boat’s steering gear; and Zoo finally sailed for Grenada at around 2:00 on Friday afternoon. Bon voyage et bon chance, mon ami!

In the overall realm of possibilities, this was a fairly benign breakdown; there are many horror stories of the things that can go wrong at sea. In one infamous voyage, a Grenadian vessel broke down midway between Trinidad and Grenada. The boat drifted slowly south-westwards for three days, until they washed up on the shore of Isla Margarita, Venezuela. Where they were all promptly arrested – for entering the country illegally! This sparked an “international incident” which wasn’t resolved until Grenada sent another boat to pick up its stranded citizens.

In another breakdown, both passengers and crew ran out of food, and had to break into the cargo in search of sustenance – where all they found was Crix crackers and Coke! After three days drifting at sea they thought salvation was at hand, when a Trinidadian Coast Guard vessel discovered them and took them under tow. But their elation was short-lived, as the Coast Guard towed them only as far as a nearby oil rig; tied them alongside, and left them to their own devices! After another Crix and Coke day on the oil rig; they were finally rescued by another vessel sent from Grenada.
It’s a tough old life, on the Caribbee Sea!

© October 2014, S. Brian Samuel
Stevenbriansamuel@gmail.com