The Adventures of Great Boatswain

By Marvin Omovbude

The Adventures of Great Boatswain carries epic love and fantasy. It is a once in a lifetime adventure. A seamans account of life at sea in his own words, this story will blow readers minds away: nothing like it has existed before.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491891230

Book preview

One

Throughout history, only men and women with extraordinary determination have ever succeeded. This determination is like a flame that burns from within, glowing strong and bright until it reaches the four corners of the earth, the widest ocean, and the deepest seas, touching the clouds of the sky above.

Many men and women have lived throughout the world’s long history; some of them are in the minds and on the lips of people the world over, continually celebrated to this very day. Other people might have made their marks in smaller ways, but history soon forgot them. Still others whose flames burnt less bright were never remembered.

We must salute the courage of the men and women who, through sacrifices and courage, created links across the oceans of the world, especially in those early days of their wayfaring, when they knew the beginning of their journey but not the end.

This story is about my son, my grandson, and me. I love and cherish the oceans of the world, as I was privileged to follow the footsteps of those greatest of all men who have ruled the oceans.

The ocean is a place for people with the self-determination to succeed. Among all humans, it is the families of seamen that have developed the guts which others don’t have, the grit necessary to accept the life and make the sacrifices required when loved ones travel into the world of the unknown. My family belong to this unique group of families with both guts and style.

It took 366 days and nights of a leap year to convince my future wife to accept my intention to embarking on a journey—right from our first kiss, to our wedding vows, and throughout the romance we shared. I did not let up till I convinced her of my burning desire to journey across the sea, from Europe to the land where only a few have travelled.

Each night and day, I brought up the issues. The price and pleasures of kisses always surpassed the dream, and yet, it still lived on.

I am from a humble background outside Lisbon, a place known as Sintra, which has had a great history as the holiday home of the monarchs of Portugal.

I never knew what royalty was really like. I saw royalty from afar and loved it, but I was born into a family of subsistence farmers and a fisherman. This was true for me, my father before me, and all the way back through our family’s generations, giving me ample experience about the seaman’s life during my early years.

It was the quest of nations at that time to open trade routes across the world. Portugal was not left out of this quest; in fact, it led the quest, with the great explorer Vasco da Gama making tremendous progress by finding the route to India via the Indian Ocean. The success of this great navigator was highly celebrated across the length and breadth of Portugal.

I was born to the family of Luis Furtado on the eve of the anniversary of da Gama’s historic achievement, and my family named me Dagama Luis Furtado in order to be part of that man’s great achievements.

I took life seriously as a child; though going to sea was not an option but a choice I must make in accordance with the long-standing tradition of our family.

As far as I could remember, all children of my age in the same neighbourhood took pride in fishing, but my case was different. I felt ill the very first time my father took me to sea, vomiting so much that my father worried I was gravely ill and might not survive.

Beyond that most unpleasant early experience, I wanted to change something about myself, to be different from others, which made me want to work in a trade instead of as a fisherman.

I was sixteen years young when I met a man whom my father considered brother. This close family friend, who was a very influential figure in local politics, was known to me by the name Mr Carlos.

Mr Carlos had a great view of the world and mankind, and these views excited my father. He was always willing to listen to any suggestion made by Mr Carlos. My father talked about this man, even at the dinner table, as being a man whose honesty can never be separated from truth.

My father invited Mr Carlos to a party in our home on the eve of my sixteenth birthday. Even when there was not much money in the house, and my mother saw nothing to celebrate, my father always felt the celebration should go on, and he would let nothing interfere with his plans.

A day before the birthday, my mother finally accepted my father’s plan to celebrate. She baked some cakes and collected wines from the winemakers around us.

I toed the line of my mother, as I saw nothing to celebrate in what appeared to be the bleak future of a young man like me, born to a humble background.

Mr Carlos accepted my father’s invitation, and he arrived on time for the party. A few family members and neighbours also attended.

Soon after arriving, Mr Carlos asked me, What do you want to do with your life, now that you are sixteen?

My mind was blank for a few moments, and I did not know what to say in response to his question. I must see to my other guests, I mumbled as an excuse.

I excused you to everyone, "Mr Carlos informed me, repeating the same question and waiting for my answer.

I would love to be a trader, a merchant trader! I replied at last.

He laughed.

I was rather upset with his laughter, but he promised to show me the way to achieve my dreams.

Ten days later, I received an envelope. This was the first letter ever written to me. I slowly tore the envelope open, took out the letter bearing my name, and read it word by word. The end of the letter offered me a post as a trading-crew member on-board a ship.

The excitement of this news was so great that I clutched the letter in my hand and raced to the seaside where my father was fishing. My speed alone could have made me a champion, but the moment made me feel like one even more.

My father supported me every step of the way, but my mother opposed the journey. She was afraid for her son’s life. As an only child, I understood my mother’s feelings, and I cherished her love and opinion. However, one fact of life will always remain: with every step a man takes to better his life, there will always be someone waiting to say that it can’t work. That is and always will be the truth.

This was the nineteenth century, and there were no speedy methods of communication, but the news of my becoming a trading-crew member spread like wildfire through the town, even to its most hidden nooks and crannies.

Some people asked if I was going for expeditions, others thought the journey might never happen, and still others told me I might never made it back alive. I listened to these various opinions from different schools of thoughts, but I kept mute, pronouncing not so much as a yes or no.

The big day soon arrived with little preparation made. Having no new clothes or shoes, I wore a black jumper and a short with a winter jacket, and my mother also prepared additional clothing for me. I arranged all my clothes and personal effects into a sack, and this served as my luggage.

The morning of the big day, we set off on a three-horse carriage, with Father at the reins. Mother and I sat close together on the carriage. Throughout the six-hour horse ride to the port where the vessel was berthed, Mother’s smile disappeared, and all I could see in her eyes was the agony of a weeping mother.

I spoke not a word for fear of provoking her pain further. With a bright smile on my face, I murmured, Mother, all will be fine.

In the lowest tone I had ever heard her utter, Mother replied, I know, my son.

I wished this day would soon be over, as Mother had never been in such a sorrowful mood in all the sixteen years since my birth.

The moment we arrived at the ship, I was amazed. It was packed full of people, both the families of the crew and well-wishers, all in a carnival-like atmosphere. I saw Mother smile for the first time, and I wondered what it would be like inside this beautiful vessel, Ocean Wave, standing tall on the quayside.

Father gave me a warm handshake followed by hugs and kisses, and Mother hugged and kissed me too, wiping away her tears.

I turned from my parents and slowly made my way down through the gangway, only to be immediately ushered into my accommodation, where I deposited my so-called luggage.

Shortly afterwards, there was a briefing that detailed each crew member’s responsibilities. These were explained one after another, and no one of the crew wanted to miss out on a moment. We all listened carefully as the duties and responsibilities were read out and explained.

I was preparing and waiting for this moment, said another crew member sitting beside me.

I nodded but said nothing.

There were lots of men, some from the shore and some from the ship’s crew. At this point, I could not tell who was who and what the on-board positions were, but as the names were read out and the duties were described, the picture became clearer.

The briefing lasted for hours, with lots of drinking and eating taking place on the shoreside. The final point raised at the briefing was that the Ocean Wave was a new vessel, and she was to be making her maiden voyage; therefore, it was time to celebrate. There was champagne for the ship’s owners and their guests. (This confirmation of the ship’s maiden voyage explained the carnival-like atmosphere, and I was glad, as this had weighed on my mind.)

The crew received a tour of various locations, including our cabins, the living quarters, galley, bridge, engine room, and mooring stations. It was all quite grand.

The tour marked the end of all the formalities; we were given thirty minutes to go back to our cabins and to stow all the belongings and personal effects which we had deposited upon arriving.

Soon all crew were asked to return on deck and to go to their various mooring stations in preparation for sailing. The total number of crew, including the captain, was put at forty-five men. More than half had a lot of experience, and all were selected from various areas in and around Lisbon city.

All the crew assembled in the various mooring stations. I was in the forward station. I had seen mooring carried out by my father on a daily basis, so I thought this was nothing new to me. However, it was vastly different for a few reasons: the magnitude of this mooring occasion, the size of the ship and the ropes, and the electrically charged atmosphere of the people waving the national flag, clapping, cheering, and waving their hands.

I saw my father carry out this kind of operation before, I told another crew member. Deep down, though, I knew it meant little. The size of the mooring ropes keeping this great monster to the quayside was extraordinary, and it made our work far more arduous than any I had ever experienced.

The ropes were about 10 inches in circumference, requiring significant human labour to pull them clear from the shoreside into the ship. This was a very significant operation, and communication was a vital and pivotal element: if each of us got it right, everyone would be happy, but getting it wrong would spell collision for the vessel against the strong concrete wall of the quayside. Damaging a ship prior to her maiden voyage was something that everyone wished would not happen.

I was the only slim and less-muscular man in my team, though the six-pack on my stomach was intact. The other men in the team were very burly in physique, strong and with a lot of stamina.

One of the men, by the name Nani, jokingly said, I possess a great personality with a very strong swags, judging by my looks!

Everyone laughed.

Christino, the leader of the team, replied in a loud voice, We are not here for jokes, lads.

I realized at that moment that some people on-board possessed great senses of humour, which gave me a lot to cheer about, soothing my innermost mind. Nevertheless, I traded caution with optimism, as it is difficult to know which of our fellow humans to trust.

The moment everyone was waiting for arrived, and within a matter of seconds order after order started to trickle in. We carried them out one after another.

At exactly 1600 hours local time on 26 March 1825, the Ocean Wave successfully cast off from the quayside, and she made a big turn on the harbour to face seaward, following the estuary of the Tagus River out to the Atlantic. The cheers and clapping became louder, followed by a twenty-one shot of mortar fire of respect from the national navy.

Luckily, every one of the crew was on the deck, cheering back at the people on shoreside and waving the national flag. So the crew also lowered and raised the national flag in salute of the navy for the mortar fire. We were overwhelmed by emotions.

The wind and sea current favoured the vessel; this, combined with the power of her steam engine, began to increase the speed of the vessel. The sea would soon separate the crew on-board from the people at the shoreside. The people became smaller and smaller to the crew watching from the vessel, and to those waiting shoreside, the ship would seem to disappear, heading towards the horizon that met the ocean.

I squinted, earnestly straining to see if I could catch one last glimpse of my parents; this was not possible, as the crowd had grown very large prior to the ship’s departure from the port. I knew for sure that Mother and Father would be proud this day, but I would still have loved to see Mother one last time—I know how much I would miss her.

There was no contract, but we were informed verbally of the present of bales of fabric for crew on-board. As the saying goes, seeing is believing, but we just had to believe, even without seeing, as a first test in the world of trust and trials. The idea behind this was to build individual trust of all the crew.

Two

The voyage was well underway, and the duties and responsibilities on our shoulders grew heavier. The support the crew had received when casting off from the quayside gradually faded away, as did the joy we had felt, though the fond memories of that maiden-voyage cast-off would remain at heart for a long time to come.

The time for the real business of seafaring had come, but seeing the wider ocean for the first time would scare anyone, even a man with the heart of a lion.

How to describe the high seas of the Atlantic Ocean. The ocean I saw in this first voyage was a world all its own, a place without beginning or end. With water everywhere and no visible land in sight, our vessel seemed just like a dot in the middle of nowhere. The master of the ship knew where he was going, but to me, a first-timer at sea, it seemed that everything on the ocean just floated—even an entire country would just float on the open water.

The encouragement of the experienced seamen on-board really helped to build my confidence; they looked so relaxed, just as if they were on holiday. They had put the land and their families behind them so quickly. This was far harder for a sixteen-year-old novice to accomplish, especially one who had lived in the arms of his mother and father for all his years.

The captain informed everyone that the vessel would be heading to the port of Alexandria in Egypt, with no definite schedule; however, it would be in the best interest of the owners if she truly made it to this specific Egyptian port. If she did not, any other port in Egypt would be just fine. The Ocean Wave was carrying Portuguese fabrics through the Mediterranean to Alexandria, and she was to bring back pottery, crafts, and ivory from Egypt.

I was on the bridge, wondering how the ship would get to Egypt with no clear route marking the way on the surface of the water! Typical thoughts of a young novice. I wondered, too, about what the captain had said in regard to any port in Egypt being just fine. Time at sea would show me that arriving at a different-than-expected port did not mean the ship was lost.

The captain used the skies to navigate; the stars, moon, planets that were visible at night guided the course he set. The morning stars were of great importance during daylight, as the key thing was to find our position on the sea in terms of where the vessel actually was. There were also papers that looked to me like the greatest artists’ paintings, with land and sea beautifully portrayed and the names of cities and ports clearly marked. I later learnt that these were maps used to assist the captain and navigator in locating the needed ports.

The experience of the captain played a greater role in finding the routes to our destination than the maps did. He would tell the lookouts the names of landmarks—a rock or cliff, hills or mountains, an island, and so on—and these were used as visual aids for navigation. We would therefore search for landmarks for days, and finding them was very exciting indeed, as the one who set eyes on each landmark first was often rewarded with a cup of whisky. This reward acted as a motivating force and incentive for everyone to be the first to see every landmark. It was also important for safely guiding us to our destinations.

At that point in our journey, the captain instructed all crew to be on the lookout for two features: a huge rock and an island, both off the Iberian coast. The former was the famed Rock of Gibraltar, and the latter was Madeira Island. Seeing the Rock of Gibraltar would mean it was time for the vessel to turn around and head towards the Mediterranean Sea; seeing the island first would mean the vessel had lost her way for days. This was the worst thing to have happen. We searched for the two conspicuous landmarks day and night. Heavy sprays of water would blow onto the deck of the ship at times, considerably reducing the distance we could see with our naked eyes. Every crew member sincerely wished the vessel would reach the location of the Rock of Gibraltar first, rather than Madeira Island.

Strong winds had earlier affected the vessel, carrying her deeper into the Atlantic Ocean before all became calm and quiet. Consequently, it was the island that we saw first. We were all saddened and disappointed, but we could not change the factor of the forces of nature affecting the vessel, which are well beyond anyone’s control.

It had taken the vessel twenty-four days and nights to reach this island, meaning that we had passed the place where we were supposed to turn the vessel in the direction of the Mediterranean Sea towards Egypt. For twenty-four days and nights we had been off course.

This was difficult for every crew member on-board to swallow, and it was a painful journey back to the place where the captain felt we might have lost our way. The vessel then steamed day and night until we made our way to the Rock of Gibraltar.

We finally arrived at the location of the rock, with the captain making a broad turn to enter into the Strait of Gibraltar and onward to the Mediterranean Sea. Just