Chapter 14: I hire a crew

That was it, the final pick-list item was complete, the last inspection signed off and the papers were pristine. The insurance company had no problem under-writing me. My captain's papers were upgraded to license me for the tonnage of the ship.

I contacted the Harbormaster who put me in touch with the international merchant marine registry. I gave my crew berth specifications and requested Swedes, Norwegians, Finns, Scots, Danes and Germans. I wanted good, calm sailors that would appreciate an easy berth, good food and good pay. My pay scale was 30% above the industry standard. I figured that the only times a crew like that would act up was during the international soccer playoffs and during the winter Olympics.

The applications started coming in. The men I selected were all clean of drugs and had relatively clean background checks. Fred, James and Inger were older guys who'd had their first mate's papers for years. They liked the idea of a nice, quiet berth where they could practice their trade and not fight the 'young turks'. They seemed to get along with each other and I had a good feeling about them. They became my core staff.

Next Max and Peter (both were cooks) came on board. Max 'never wanted to see another goddamned cruise ship as long as he lived'. (his words) Peter wanted to see the world but didn't want to join some damned navy to do it. I gave them both a trial meal to cook and they did well with the limited supplies I had on hand. (snicker) The theme was 'fruits of the sea'. Each of them walked into a totally stripped galley--not a speck of food in it. I gave them each a fifty dollar bill and an open-ended taxi, rented for the day.

Max prepared a cold seafood bar on ice with lobster salad, chilled shrimp cocktails, oysters on the half shell with fresh horseradish sauce and smoked chubs. It was presented on the top of a stainless-steel kitchen cart with six inch walls to hold the ice in place.

Peter served up some very nice fish tacos, honeydew melon slices and an excellent cerviche with fresh halibut, canned tomatoes, sweet onions and fresh limes. He used carrot tops because he couldn't find any cilantro in the Netherlands in November. The canned tomatoes were better than anything fresh you'd find that time of year. It was a good trick. I let him know that I'd rather have parsley than cilantro any day. Not bad for off-the-cuff. Fred, James and Inger agreed.

We still needed to stock the galley stores and refrigerated spaces as well as buy pots, pans and cooking utensils. I sent them out with a ship's checkbook and told them to buy quality and plan for menus for fifteen. We'd expect some baked goods at least every other day, weather permitting. They were hired. I told them to make sure to buy enough tunics to last a week and get some restaurant grade thick interlocking rubber mats for the galley floor. I'd already bought a big pressure washer/steam cleaner to clean the galley appliances, walls and floor. A centrally-located floor drain was built in for that very purpose and flat trenches were designed in for the rubber mats. Cooks work on their feet and those thick rubber mats can be lifesavers.

Randy came aboard, as an engineer, to look around and check out what he'd be using. He looked around the engineering spaces, checked out the sleeping quarters and looked over the salon He smiled and made a phone call. He got us Anders and Christian (Chris). We had our engineering staff. Anders knew how to use a loading crane and balance the freight. Randy was certified on the engines and had rebuilt one in class. Chris was ex-military and had worked around big diesels for years.

The cooks asked me what was in those four foot-lockers that were taking up so much of their cooler space. I said "Plastic Explosives" and stopped there. Their expressions were priceless. They were trying to figure out (1) what they had gotten themselves into and (2) how to get enough lead time to run away. I let them off the hook and explained to everybody about the scuttling charges.

Chris said "Wait a minute. Twenty kilos of Semtex is more than enough to break the back of the ship by itself if you blow it next to the keel, I don't care how thick it is. What the hell do you want with four times that?"

I replied "If anyone puts us in the position where we need to scuttle the ship then I want the chance to blow them to hell. The charge holes are set to blow the fuel tanks, emulsify whoever's in the elevator shaft, pulverize whoever's in the wheelhouse and turn whoever's in the engine space into a grease spot as well as punch through the bottom in four areas. The elevator shaft should provide for a near-perfect draft mechanism to speed the scuttling. When triggered, it shouldn't leave anything but a spreading, burning pool of diesel fuel. Look up 'Pyrrhic victory' sometime."

I figured that it was a good time to show the crew where the arms locker was and what was in it.

Alfred said "Old school. Very old school. I approve."

He hefted an M79 grenade launcher, broke it open, checked the bore and snapped it closed. He grinned. I had the feeling that he'd used one before. I just had to speak up.

"I hate to disappoint you there, Alfred, but let me show you what's in these big green plastic crates."

I hefted a Starstreak missile and launcher. I kept my fingers away from the internal power switch and the launch trigger. You do NOT want to fire off one of those bad boys within four walls.

"Let me introduce you to a laser-guided super-sonic ground-to-air missile capable of ignoring any chaff or other countermeasures. Each missile sports three sub-munitions, tungsten penetrators, on top of shaped explosives. We found that they work wonderfully well on attack boats too."

Chris started in shock, then he laughed until he cried.

Finally he was able to ask, "You fired a million-dollar weapon, capable of taking out a stealth bomber in full attack mode, at a seventy knots--at best--PIRATE BOAT? MORE THAN ONCE?"

"Err, yep. Three times."

He wiped the tears from his eyes as he said, "I can tell I'm gonna like it here. You're my kind of crazy."

I watched Alfred counting. I remarked, "Yup, forty two. Thirty nine, really. That last case is a partial. They're not worth a million a pop. That's prop wash. Our replacement cost would be about 11 thousand each The launchers are only worth about sixty four hundred each. We've got four, no, five now. The other 25 cases hold Stingers, worth about 38 thousand each. The Browning sabot rounds are a steal at about forty three dollars a round. The HE/I rounds are about twenty two bucks a pop. The grenade launcher ammo? I'd guess about 120 bucks a round, maybe more. I could sell the hand grenades for about 200 each. On the black market everything but the hand grenades would go for perhaps fifteen times as much. It gives you a new appreciation for the price of doing business."

Chris was nearly hysterical. He quipped "For those who care enough to send the very best!"

I said, "Shut up Chris. Go sit down and have a schnapps. You're losing it."

He wandered off. The rest of the guys looked at the munitions then looked back at me.

"Some day after I've had a few I'll tell you about it. Let's just say that I caught the marine commandant of Parris Island, when he was mad enough to chew rocks, and I benefited from the whole thing. The contents of that weapons locker are worth more than what this ship cost before the refit. Sobering, isn't it?"

The guys were fierce coffee drinkers. Our stomachs needed pastries in the morning in sheer self-defense. I gave up and went back to tea. My guts simply couldn't handle it. I had my little on-demand hot water heater in my suite and another in the wheelhouse. I was happy.