“He can serve at table,” said Elena before Sasha had a chance to reply.
“That will be a first,” said the captain.
It certainly will, thought Sasha, who’d never been inside a restaurant in his life, and apart from clearing the table and washing up after supper, was rarely to be found in the kitchen.
“Is the cabin next to Fergal’s free, Matthews?” asked the captain.
“Yes, skipper, but it’s hardly big enough for two.”
“Then put the boy in with Fergal. He can sleep on the top bunk, and his mother can have the spare cabin. Once they’ve unpacked,” he added, glancing down at the small suitcase, “take them to the galley and introduce them to the cook.”
Sasha noticed that this statement brought a smile to the lips of the helmsman, although his eyes remained fixed on the ocean ahead.
“Aye, aye, captain,” said Matthews. Without another word he led his charges back down the spiral staircase and onto the main deck. Once again Sasha stared toward the distant horizon, but there was no longer any sign of Leningrad.
They followed Matthews back across the deck, and descended an even narrower staircase to the bowels of the ship. Their guide led them down a dimly lit corridor, coming to a halt outside two adjoining cabins.
“This is where you’ll be sleeping during the voyage.”
Elena opened the door of her cabin and looked
up at a swinging bulb that threw a small arc of light onto a narrow bunk. The rhythmic thumping of the ship’s engine guaranteed that even if she hadn’t slept for the past week, she certainly wasn’t going to for the next one.
Matthews opened the next-door cabin. Sasha stepped inside to find a double bunk that took up almost the whole space.
“You’ll be on top,” said Matthews. “I’ll be back in half an hour, when I’ll take you up to the galley.”
“Thank you,” said Sasha, who immediately climbed onto the top bunk. It wasn’t any better than his bed in Leningrad. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d chosen the right crate.
* * *
“Now listen up,” someone shouted, “because I’m only going to say this once.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face the chef, who was standing in the center of the galley, hands on hips.
“We have a lady on board, and she’ll be working with us. Mrs. Karpenko is a trained cook, who has a great deal of experience, so you will treat her with the respect she deserves. If any one of you puts a foot out of line, I’ll chop it off and feed it to the seagulls. Do I make myself clear?” The nervous laughter that followed suggested that he did.
“Her son, Sasha,” continued the chef, “who is also traveling with us, will be assisting Fergal in the dining room. Right, let’s all get back to work. We have dinner to serve in a couple of hours.”
A thin, pale young man with a shock of red hair strolled across the galley and stopped in front of Sasha.
“I’m Fergal,” he said. Sasha nodded, but didn’t speak. “Now listen up,” he added firmly, placing his hands on his hips, “because I’m only going to say this once. I’m the chief steward, and you can call me ‘sir.’”
“Yes, sir,” said Sasha meekly.
Fergal burst out laughing, shook his new recruit by the hand, and said, “Follow me, Sasha.”
Sasha followed him out of the galley and up the nearest staircase. “So what am I expected to do?” he asked once he’d caught up.
“As you’re told,” said Fergal when he reached the top step. “Our job is to serve the passengers in the dining room.”
“This ship has passengers?”
“Only a dozen. We’re a cargo vessel, but if you have more than twelve passengers, you’re registered as a cruise ship. The company does own a couple of ocean liners, but we’re part of their cargo fleet,” he added as he pushed open a door and entered a room containing three large circular tables, each with six chairs.
“But there are eighteen places,” said Sasha. “You said—”
“I can see you’re sharp,” said Fergal with a grin. “As well as the twelve passengers, there are six officers who also eat in the dining room but sit at their own table. Now, our first job,” he added, pulling open a drawer in a large sideboard and extracting three tablecloths, “is to lay up for dinner.”