He ran down the stairs and into the street, and soon found a postbox. He read through what he’d written one more time. Then he popped the card into the box.
Jenny and his little sisters came back together. Joel was lying on his bed in the little room behind the kitchen, and heard their voices. He went to the living room and greeted them. Then he told them what had happened.
‘I’ll be signing on tomorrow. I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay any longer.’
Jenny sat down on a chair. She seemed disappointed.
‘So you’re leaving already?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where are you sailing to?’
‘Africa. Liberia.’
‘As far away as Africa?’
‘Or Oxelösund. Nothing is certain. It depends where the cargoes are. And where they have to be taken to.’
‘You must know if you’re going to Africa or Oxelösund, surely?’
‘I’ll probably be going to both places. And Belgium as well.’
Jenny shook her head. Then she burst out laughing.
‘You’re just like Samuel. He was always going to either Rio de Janeiro or London. And I never knew where he’d come from.’
‘You know how it is, then,’ said Joel.
The two sisters stood and listened but said nothing. They gaped wide-eyed at their big brother.
‘If it is Africa, I’ll bring a present back for you,’ said Joel. ‘A monkey skin or something like that.’
‘Good Lord, no!’ said Jenny. ‘I wouldn’t want that. Not a monkey skin. Anything at all but that.’
That evening Jenny and Joel sat up for ages, talking. Time had turned out to be so short. But when Joel finally went to bed and switched off the light, he could hardly remember anything they’d said.
All he could think about was the next day.
I’ll have time to think about Jenny later, he told himself.
I’ve found her now. That’s the main thing. And I’ve got two little sisters — who kick up a hell of a row in the bathroom.
But what all that means is something I can think about later.
The first thing I have to do is to walk up the gangway onto the ship that at this very moment is on its way to Stockholm to pick me up.
And the next day, shortly before eight o’clock, Joel got off the tram and saw the ship that had berthed during the night. MS Alta was bigger than MS Karmas. The hatches were just being opened. Joel could feel his heart pounding. Then he went through the dock gates and approached the gangway. The side of the ship towered above him like a mountain. He went on board.
A sailor wearing overalls came towards him. He gave Joel a friendly smile.
‘Are you going to sign on?’
‘Yes.’
‘Deck or mess?’
‘I’m going to be a mess steward.’
‘Our new Kalle, then. He was good, the one we had before you. Apart from the washing up — he wasn’t much good at that.’
The man looked Joel in the eye.
‘Can you wash up?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ said Joel. ‘That’s about all I can do.’
The man pointed towards the stern of the ship.
‘Pirinen will no doubt be back there, drinking coffee with the cook. I assume he’s the one you have to see.’
Joel walked slowly in the direction the man had indicated. He was so high up above the water.
He took a deep breath. As if to convince himself that what he was doing was true.
Then he went to meet Pirinen. And was duly approved and signed on. That very same day he moved into his cabin.
Jenny wanted to take the girls with her and have a look at the ship. But Joel said no.
If it had been Samuel, that would have been different.
He started work the following day. He was disappointed to discover that the ship would be staying in Stockholm for a whole week. Nobody knew which would be their next port. Somebody said Narvik. Somebody else said England. But nobody knew. It would be some days before they found out.
And Joel worked. He laid tables and washed up, cleaned and made beds. He got to know the ship and the people working on it. And every night he collapsed into bed exhausted.
They eventually discovered where they would be sailing to. Joel was disappointed. Their destination would be Luleå.
The far north of Sweden, he thought. Even further north than the place where Samuel and I have been living all those years.
Nevertheless, he was on his way at last.
He was woken up at four in the morning by the vibrations from the engines. He could hear the mooring ropes being cast off. Then the propeller rumbled into action.
The journey had begun.
12
In Luleå Joel bought a notebook with a black cover.
That same day he started his logbook. His first entry was dated June 17.
Arrived Luleå.
Perhaps it was good that my first voyage brought me here.
You can’t get any further north.
Now I have to sail south.
Luleå. June 17, 1959. 8.35 p.m.
He’d made up his mind to write something every day. It didn’t need to be much. But there would have to be at least one word, a date and a time.
He also posted two letters in Luleå.
The first was to Samuel. He explained how he’d collected his discharge book and the very same day signed on with his first ship. He described the vessel, how it was 20,000 tons, and that he was currently in Luleå.
He hoped that Samuel’s journey home had gone well.
He promised to write from his next port of call, and included the unused half of his train ticket in the envelope.
If Samuel wanted to write back, he knew what he needed to do. The letter should be addressed to the shipping line.
The other letter was to Jenny Rydén.
That was more difficult to write. He tore up several attempts. In the end he didn’t have the strength to write any more, and so his latest effort would just have to do.
He asked her to hang the photograph of Samuel up again. Assuming he was right in thinking she’d taken it down. If she didn’t do that, he would never visit her again.
But he gave her an alternative. If she didn’t want to have Samuel on her wall, instead she could remove the picture of the man with the close-cropped hair. Then there would be two marks on the wallpaper.
He wondered how she would react. She might be angry? Perhaps she wouldn’t want to see him ever again? Well, he’d just have to take that risk.
And so Joel’s life at sea got under way.
The ship sailed from Luleå to Middlesbrough. They docked at first light. Joel was standing on deck, gazing at this foreign country swathed in mist. It was the first time he’d ever been outside Swedish territory. They’d had fine weather all the way. The North Sea had been dead calm.
That evening, Joel went ashore with a deck hand by the name of Frans, who was from Gotland. Frans had been a sailor for two years already, and had been to Middlesbrough before. He knew the dock land district. Joel drank two pints of beer in a pub, and got a splitting headache. By the time they had to go back to their ship, Joel had fallen asleep over the table. The following day, when he was woken up at six o’clock, he was sick.
He’d got used to the work by now. The days were humdrum. First of all he had his own breakfast. Then he set the tables and served 24 covers in the mess where the ordinary sailors used to eat. There were two other messes. But the one where the captain, the mate and the chief engineer ate was called the wardroom, and the steward there was called a wardroom steward. After breakfast, Joel’s work was to wash up and then clean out the cabins. He had a few hours’ free time in the afternoons, and then worked again until eight in the evening.