I don't understand. For days the ship had pushed on,bullishly indifferent to its surroundings. The sun shone, rain fell,winds blew, currents flowed, the sea built up hills, the sea dugup valleys – the Tsimtsum did not care. It moved with theslow, massive confidence of a continent.
I had bought a map of the world for the trip; I had set itup in our cabin against a cork billboard. Every morning I gotour position from the control bridge and marked it on themap with an orange-tipped pin. We sailed from Madras acrossthe Bay of Bengal, down through the Strait of Malacca, aroundSingapore and up to Manila. I loved every minute of it. It wasa thrill to be on a ship. Taking care of the animals kept usvery busy. Every night we fell into bed weary to our bones.
We were in Manila for two days, a question of fresh feed, newcargo and, we were told, the performing of routine maintenancework on the engines. I paid attention only to the first two. Thefresh feed included a ton of bananas, and the new cargo, afemale Congo chimpanzee, part of Father's wheeling anddealing. A ton of bananas bristles with a good three, fourpounds of big black spiders. A chimpanzee is like a smaller,leaner gorilla, but meaner-looking, with less of the melancholygentleness of its larger cousin. A chimpanzee shudders andgrimaces when it touches a big black spider, like you and Iwould do, before squashing it angrily with its knuckles, notsomething you and I would do. I thought bananas and achimpanzee were more interesting than a loud, filthy mechanicalcontraption in the dark bowels of a ship. Ravi spent his daysthere, watching the men work. Something was wrong with theengines, he said. Did something go wrong with the fixing ofthem? I don't know. I don't think anyone will ever know. Theanswer is a mystery lying at the bottom of thousands of feet ofwater.
We left Manila and entered the Pacific. On our fourth dayout, midway to Midway, we sank. The ship vanished into apinprick hole on my map. A mountain collapsed before myeyes and disappeared beneath my feet. All around me was thevomit of a dyspeptic ship. I felt sick to my stomach. I feltshock. I felt a great emptiness within me, which then filled withsilence. My chest hurt with pain and fear for days afterwards.
I think there was an explosion. But I can't be sure. Ithappened while I was sleeping. It woke me up. The ship wasno luxury liner. It was a grimy, hardworking cargo ship notdesigned for paying passengers or for their comfort. Therewere all kinds of noises all the time. It was precisely becausethe level of noise was so uniform that we slept like babies. Itwas a form of silence that nothing disturbed, not Ravi's snoringnor my talking in my sleep. So the explosion, if there was one,was not a new noise. It was an irregular noise. I woke upwith a start, as if Ravi had burst a balloon in my ears. Ilooked at my watch. It was just after four-thirty in themorning. I leaned over and looked down at the bunk below.
Ravi was still sleeping.
I dressed and climbed down. Normally I'm a sound sleeper.
Normally I would have gone back to sleep. I don't know why Igot up that night. It was more the sort of thing Ravi woulddo. He liked the word beckon; he would have said, "Adventurebeckons," and would have gone off to prowl around the ship.
The level of noise was back to normal again, but with adifferent quality perhaps, muffled maybe.
I shook Ravi. I said, "Ravi! There was a funny noise. Let'sgo exploring."He looked at me sleepily. He shook his head and turnedover, pulling the sheet up to his cheek. Oh, Ravi!
I opened the cabin door.
I remember walking down the corridor. Day or night itlooked the same. But I felt the night in me. I stopped atFather and Mother's door and considered knocking on it. Iremember looking at my watch and deciding against it. Fatherliked his sleep. I decided I would climb to the main deck andcatch the dawn.. Maybe I would see a shooting star. I wasthinking about that, about shooting stars, as I climbed thestairs. We were two levels below the main deck. I had alreadyforgotten about the funny noise.
It was only when I had pushed open the heavy doorleading onto the main deck that I realized what the weatherwas like. Did it qualify as a storm? It's true there was rain, butit wasn't so very hard. It certainly wasn't a driving rain, likeyou see during the monsoons. And there was wind. I supposesome of the gusts would have upset umbrellas. But I walkedthrough it without much difficulty. As for the sea, it lookedrough, but to a landlubber the sea is always impressive andforbidding, beautiful and dangerous. Waves were reaching up,and their white foam, caught by the wind, was being whippedagainst the side of the ship. But I'd seen that on other daysand the ship hadn't sunk. A cargo ship is a huge and stablestructure, a feat of engineering. It's designed to stay afloatunder the most adverse conditions. Weather like this surelywouldn't sink a ship? Why, I only had to close a door and thestorm was gone. I advanced onto the deck. I gripped therailing and faced the elements. This was adventure.
"Canada, here I come!" I shouted as I was soaked andchilled. I felt very brave. It was dark still, but there wasenough light to see by. Light on pandemonium it was. Naturecan put on a thrilling show. The stage is vast, the lighting isdramatic, the extras are innumerable, and the budget for specialeffects is absolutely unlimited. What I had before me was aspectacle of wind and water, an earthquake of the senses, thateven Hollywood couldn't orchestrate. But the earthquakestopped at the ground beneath my feet. The ground beneathmy feet was solid. I was a spectator safely ensconced in hisseat.
It was when I looked up at a lifeboat on the bridge castlethat I started to worry. The lifeboat wasn't hanging straightdown. It was leaning in from its davits. I turned and looked atmy hands. My knuckles were white. The thing was, I wasn'tholding on so tightly because of the weather, but becauseotherwise I would fall in towards the ship. The ship was listingto port, to the other side. It wasn't a severe list, but enough tosurprise me. When I looked overboard the drop wasn't sheerany more. I could see the ship's great black side.
A shiver of cold went through me. I decided it was a stormafter all. Time to return to safety. I let go, hotfooted it to thewall, moved over and pulled open the door.
Inside the ship, there were noises. Deep structural groans. Istumbled and fell. No harm done. I got up. With the help ofthe handrails I went down the stairwell four steps at a time. Ihad gone down just one level when I saw water. Lots ofwater. It was blocking my way. It was surging from below likea riotous crowd, raging, frothing and boiling. Stairs vanishedinto watery darkness. I couldn't believe my eyes. What was thiswater doing here? Where had it come from? I stood nailed tothe spot, frightened and incredulous and ignorant of what Ishould do next. Down there was where my family was.
I ran up the stairs. I got to the main deck. The weatherwasn't entertaining any more. I was very afraid. Now it wasplain and obvious: the ship was listing badly. And it wasn'tlevel the other way either. There was a noticeable incline goingfrom bow to stern. I looked overboard. The water didn't lookto be eighty feet away. The ship was sinking. My mind couldhardly conceive it. It was as unbelievable as the moon catchingfire.
Where were the officers and the crew? What were theydoing? Towards the bow I saw some men running in thegloom. I thought I saw some animals too, but I dismissed thesight as illusion crafted by rain and shadow. We had the hatchcovers over their bay pulled open when the weather was good,but at all times the animals were kept confined to their cages.
These were dangerous wild animals we were transporting, notfarm livestock. Above me, on the bridge, I thought I heardsome men shouting.
The ship shook and there was that sound, the monstrousmetallic burp. What was it? Was it the collective scream ofhumans and animals protesting their oncoming death? Was itthe ship itself giving up the ghost? I fell over. I got to my feet.
I looked overboard again. The sea was rising. The waves weregetting closer. We were sinking fast.
I clearly heard monkeys shrieking. Something was shakingthe deck. A gaur – an Indian wild ox – exploded out of therain and thundered by me, terrified, out of control, berserk. Ilooked at it, dumbstruck and amazed. Who in God's name hadlet it out?
I ran for the stairs to the bridge. Up there was where theofficers were, the only people on the ship who spoke English,the masters of our destiny here, the ones who would right thiswrong. They would explain everything. They would take care ofmy family and me. I climbed to the middle bridge. There wasno one on the starboard side. I ran to the port side. I sawthree men, crew members. I fell. I got up. They were lookingoverboard. I shouted. They turned. They looked at me and ateach other. They spoke a few words. They came towards mequickly. I felt gratitude and relief welling up in me. I said,"Thank God I've found you. What is happening? I am veryscared. There is water at the bottom of the ship. I am worriedabout my family. I can't get to the level where our cabins are.
Is this normal? Do you think – "One of the men interrupted me by thrusting a life jacketinto my arms and shouting something in Chinese. I noticed anorange whistle dangling from the life jacket. The men werenodding vigorously at me. When they took hold of me andlifted me in their strong arms, I thought nothing of it. Ithought they were helping me. I was so full of trust in themthat I felt grateful as they carried me in the air. Only whenthey threw me overboard did I begin to have doubts.
I had bought a map of the world for the trip; I had set itup in our cabin against a cork billboard. Every morning I gotour position from the control bridge and marked it on themap with an orange-tipped pin. We sailed from Madras acrossthe Bay of Bengal, down through the Strait of Malacca, aroundSingapore and up to Manila. I loved every minute of it. It wasa thrill to be on a ship. Taking care of the animals kept usvery busy. Every night we fell into bed weary to our bones.
We were in Manila for two days, a question of fresh feed, newcargo and, we were told, the performing of routine maintenancework on the engines. I paid attention only to the first two. Thefresh feed included a ton of bananas, and the new cargo, afemale Congo chimpanzee, part of Father's wheeling anddealing. A ton of bananas bristles with a good three, fourpounds of big black spiders. A chimpanzee is like a smaller,leaner gorilla, but meaner-looking, with less of the melancholygentleness of its larger cousin. A chimpanzee shudders andgrimaces when it touches a big black spider, like you and Iwould do, before squashing it angrily with its knuckles, notsomething you and I would do. I thought bananas and achimpanzee were more interesting than a loud, filthy mechanicalcontraption in the dark bowels of a ship. Ravi spent his daysthere, watching the men work. Something was wrong with theengines, he said. Did something go wrong with the fixing ofthem? I don't know. I don't think anyone will ever know. Theanswer is a mystery lying at the bottom of thousands of feet ofwater.
We left Manila and entered the Pacific. On our fourth dayout, midway to Midway, we sank. The ship vanished into apinprick hole on my map. A mountain collapsed before myeyes and disappeared beneath my feet. All around me was thevomit of a dyspeptic ship. I felt sick to my stomach. I feltshock. I felt a great emptiness within me, which then filled withsilence. My chest hurt with pain and fear for days afterwards.
I think there was an explosion. But I can't be sure. Ithappened while I was sleeping. It woke me up. The ship wasno luxury liner. It was a grimy, hardworking cargo ship notdesigned for paying passengers or for their comfort. Therewere all kinds of noises all the time. It was precisely becausethe level of noise was so uniform that we slept like babies. Itwas a form of silence that nothing disturbed, not Ravi's snoringnor my talking in my sleep. So the explosion, if there was one,was not a new noise. It was an irregular noise. I woke upwith a start, as if Ravi had burst a balloon in my ears. Ilooked at my watch. It was just after four-thirty in themorning. I leaned over and looked down at the bunk below.
Ravi was still sleeping.
I dressed and climbed down. Normally I'm a sound sleeper.
Normally I would have gone back to sleep. I don't know why Igot up that night. It was more the sort of thing Ravi woulddo. He liked the word beckon; he would have said, "Adventurebeckons," and would have gone off to prowl around the ship.
The level of noise was back to normal again, but with adifferent quality perhaps, muffled maybe.
I shook Ravi. I said, "Ravi! There was a funny noise. Let'sgo exploring."He looked at me sleepily. He shook his head and turnedover, pulling the sheet up to his cheek. Oh, Ravi!
I opened the cabin door.
I remember walking down the corridor. Day or night itlooked the same. But I felt the night in me. I stopped atFather and Mother's door and considered knocking on it. Iremember looking at my watch and deciding against it. Fatherliked his sleep. I decided I would climb to the main deck andcatch the dawn.. Maybe I would see a shooting star. I wasthinking about that, about shooting stars, as I climbed thestairs. We were two levels below the main deck. I had alreadyforgotten about the funny noise.
It was only when I had pushed open the heavy doorleading onto the main deck that I realized what the weatherwas like. Did it qualify as a storm? It's true there was rain, butit wasn't so very hard. It certainly wasn't a driving rain, likeyou see during the monsoons. And there was wind. I supposesome of the gusts would have upset umbrellas. But I walkedthrough it without much difficulty. As for the sea, it lookedrough, but to a landlubber the sea is always impressive andforbidding, beautiful and dangerous. Waves were reaching up,and their white foam, caught by the wind, was being whippedagainst the side of the ship. But I'd seen that on other daysand the ship hadn't sunk. A cargo ship is a huge and stablestructure, a feat of engineering. It's designed to stay afloatunder the most adverse conditions. Weather like this surelywouldn't sink a ship? Why, I only had to close a door and thestorm was gone. I advanced onto the deck. I gripped therailing and faced the elements. This was adventure.
"Canada, here I come!" I shouted as I was soaked andchilled. I felt very brave. It was dark still, but there wasenough light to see by. Light on pandemonium it was. Naturecan put on a thrilling show. The stage is vast, the lighting isdramatic, the extras are innumerable, and the budget for specialeffects is absolutely unlimited. What I had before me was aspectacle of wind and water, an earthquake of the senses, thateven Hollywood couldn't orchestrate. But the earthquakestopped at the ground beneath my feet. The ground beneathmy feet was solid. I was a spectator safely ensconced in hisseat.
It was when I looked up at a lifeboat on the bridge castlethat I started to worry. The lifeboat wasn't hanging straightdown. It was leaning in from its davits. I turned and looked atmy hands. My knuckles were white. The thing was, I wasn'tholding on so tightly because of the weather, but becauseotherwise I would fall in towards the ship. The ship was listingto port, to the other side. It wasn't a severe list, but enough tosurprise me. When I looked overboard the drop wasn't sheerany more. I could see the ship's great black side.
A shiver of cold went through me. I decided it was a stormafter all. Time to return to safety. I let go, hotfooted it to thewall, moved over and pulled open the door.
Inside the ship, there were noises. Deep structural groans. Istumbled and fell. No harm done. I got up. With the help ofthe handrails I went down the stairwell four steps at a time. Ihad gone down just one level when I saw water. Lots ofwater. It was blocking my way. It was surging from below likea riotous crowd, raging, frothing and boiling. Stairs vanishedinto watery darkness. I couldn't believe my eyes. What was thiswater doing here? Where had it come from? I stood nailed tothe spot, frightened and incredulous and ignorant of what Ishould do next. Down there was where my family was.
I ran up the stairs. I got to the main deck. The weatherwasn't entertaining any more. I was very afraid. Now it wasplain and obvious: the ship was listing badly. And it wasn'tlevel the other way either. There was a noticeable incline goingfrom bow to stern. I looked overboard. The water didn't lookto be eighty feet away. The ship was sinking. My mind couldhardly conceive it. It was as unbelievable as the moon catchingfire.
Where were the officers and the crew? What were theydoing? Towards the bow I saw some men running in thegloom. I thought I saw some animals too, but I dismissed thesight as illusion crafted by rain and shadow. We had the hatchcovers over their bay pulled open when the weather was good,but at all times the animals were kept confined to their cages.
These were dangerous wild animals we were transporting, notfarm livestock. Above me, on the bridge, I thought I heardsome men shouting.
The ship shook and there was that sound, the monstrousmetallic burp. What was it? Was it the collective scream ofhumans and animals protesting their oncoming death? Was itthe ship itself giving up the ghost? I fell over. I got to my feet.
I looked overboard again. The sea was rising. The waves weregetting closer. We were sinking fast.
I clearly heard monkeys shrieking. Something was shakingthe deck. A gaur – an Indian wild ox – exploded out of therain and thundered by me, terrified, out of control, berserk. Ilooked at it, dumbstruck and amazed. Who in God's name hadlet it out?
I ran for the stairs to the bridge. Up there was where theofficers were, the only people on the ship who spoke English,the masters of our destiny here, the ones who would right thiswrong. They would explain everything. They would take care ofmy family and me. I climbed to the middle bridge. There wasno one on the starboard side. I ran to the port side. I sawthree men, crew members. I fell. I got up. They were lookingoverboard. I shouted. They turned. They looked at me and ateach other. They spoke a few words. They came towards mequickly. I felt gratitude and relief welling up in me. I said,"Thank God I've found you. What is happening? I am veryscared. There is water at the bottom of the ship. I am worriedabout my family. I can't get to the level where our cabins are.
Is this normal? Do you think – "One of the men interrupted me by thrusting a life jacketinto my arms and shouting something in Chinese. I noticed anorange whistle dangling from the life jacket. The men werenodding vigorously at me. When they took hold of me andlifted me in their strong arms, I thought nothing of it. Ithought they were helping me. I was so full of trust in themthat I felt grateful as they carried me in the air. Only whenthey threw me overboard did I begin to have doubts.