The most of the former passengers, who have traveled aboard TS/S STEFAN BATORY remember that ship in relation to their romantic and nostalgic transatlantic voyages. During the years of communism in Poland, this Polish liner, called often just "STEFEK", was for the whole Polish nation a symbol of elegance, worldly adventure and prosperity.
A very few among the STEFAN BATORY's fans had opportunity to know the reality of working on that ship as a crew member. Crew's life and work aboard of STEFAN BATORY reflected the situation in communist Poland. There were secret police agents, communist party activists and other type of "Red Spiders" among the crew. STEFAN BATORY was a very special link between Communist East and Capitalistic West in '70 & '80. The Polish communist government and party wanted to know as much as possible about people who traveled and worked aboard.
Andrew Beniger worked at the Pursers Desk and then as an Entertainment Officer aboard
TS/S STEFAN BATORY in '70. Due to the political reasons he was discharged from his duties as a crew member in 1977. During his 6 years-long service, Beniger had many opportunities to gather knowledge about his co-workers and passengers of the famous Polish ship.
In the autobiographic novel "Apparently the Red Spider", written in 2000-02, he shares his observation and reflections over the life aboard his loved "STEFEK". His writing is full of bitterness and shocking description of the reality of working on the communist passenger ship. However, it's communicated to the readers in a humorous way.
Andrew Beniger, who has lived for many years in Austria, emphasizes that his only intention to write the novel was show the true picture of working aboard
TS/S STEFAN BATORY - not to make anybody upset or feel insulted.
The novel "Apparently the Red Spider" has been published in Polish
in November 2007 by "My Book".
It can be purchased on line by going to the link below.
Expressing sincere thanks to Andrew Beniger for making his novel available for this web site, I'm inviting you to read his brutally realistic but funny and sea-rocking story.
I would like to dedicate this chapter from the depth of my heart to our wonderful and otherwise unknown hospitality of the Canadian American POLISH COMMUNITY. As you can remember, Dear Readers I devoted a lot attention to describing our transatlantic passengers. The majority of them originated form the Polish Mountain Areas and had either family or close friends in distant America. This is purely a result of the economic emigration, which took place in the late XIX and XX century when our grand parents braved the voyage across the ocean to earn their daily bread.
In those days it was no easy decision. The substandard voyage in third class accommodated the poor folks in large overpopulated dormitories. The difficult voyage across the Atlantic was further burdened by illnesses, infections, fleas and rats, a thousand and one difficulties accompanied by theft; all this was a part of the great adventure of our forefathers. The ship's food in third class was of poor nutritional value. In the era of the non-existent Poland it was extremely difficult to obtain the passage card and its payment involved investing the whole family assets. It was obvious their dear Stasiek or Jasiek was leaving forever. So it is hardly surprising that people considered EMIGRATION as a certain form of dying and isolation from their roots forever. Those Polish emigrants of the XIX century were for the main part illiterate, so the only form of communication available in those days the postal service was completely out of their reach. Even in the '70s of the XX century on board
tss 'Stefan Batory' I witnessed several times passengers who countersigned their own documents with
'three crosses' (+++). It's authentic.
(...)
What I always found so deeply moving was the Polish hospitality unknown to this extent anywhere else.
The Poles, especially those who had been outside their homeland for years are a very romantic people and love their country frenetically. They sought any excuse on board to talk to native Poles regardless of rank. The huge majority of Poles even after living a short time in Canada or America do not become simply Americans or Canadians, no way, they form the American Polonia, which has its own specific identity. As far I could observe it was only a small minority of the generation who decided to learn English. On the other hand children and youngsters obtained a command of American English within just a few weeks. American English is relatively easy if you do not have to use it in a large context. All the Polish families I knew always spoke their native Polish in their homes among themselves especially during evening meal get-to-gethers. Even the non-stop background TV in English was switched off to allow them to talk or pray in Polish. Quite a different matter concerned children who after meal times would talk among themselves in almost perfect English showing no signs of their Polish accent.
(...)
During the ship's berthing in Montreal or New York our ship's visitors were invited for a meal to the Tourist Class Restaurant. Although some our kitchen staff and stewards were on leave nobody has ever complained about the taste or quality of Polish cuisine. With the ship's normal sea operations the kitchen recommenced serving menus a la carte and for passengers who were particularly hungry the had the option to order everything from the top to the bottom of menu card.
Our dear American Poles had an unusual habit to collect all possible souvenirs from the boat e.g. starting form spoons, plates, ashtrays, plastic bags and they even suggested adopting crew members for few days during ship's call at Montreal or New York. The visitors form outside normally stayed overnight in rather expensive hotels or motels in the Harbor Area and were given an opportunity on the night before departure to stay over in one of the ship's cabins for a mere USD 25,- pp. It is impossible to imagine the amount of private parties arranged on board by our visitors while the ship was still in port and bars and saloons remained closed. Canadian Poles living in the Greater Montreal Area or New York Metropolitan Area used to 'kidnap' cabin crew members for a day or even two.
Each crew had his or her so called 'family'. I remember during my career I had the pleasure to be adopted by a couple of such families and will always remember them emotionally especially when it came to the three beautiful words 'POLISH HOME COOKING'. The traditional hospitality of the Canadian American Poles knew no limits. All ports were widely open, all rooms were made available for visitors form the boat and ladies of the house were extremely busy with baking, frying, cooking, adding herbs and spices to all possible specialties stored in the wonderful literary work under the name of 'Polish Cuisine'. We visitors were also generously equipped with presents of an alcoholic content and souvenirs especially of the folkloric type such as dolls, Cracovian, Kujavian dancers, Polish Eau de Cologne for men under the name 'Prastara', embroidered table cloths of all sizes, generally the whole contents of a 'Cepelia' store on deck 'A'.
A paradoxical situation arouse, especially for Marysia, the shopkeeper, who had to face the complete lack of goods on the Eastbound trip as the crew had bought up the whole contents of the shop to give as presents to their local families in American ports of call. Confronted with this 'difficult situation' Marysia, the semi active party member was faced with a political dilemma to explain the absence of goods. The partied organized for us exceeded all antique opulence written in historical sources of the golden times of Bacchus and Lucullus. It was practically possible to order anything which was related in any way to Poland. Even family fathers sought an opportunity to engage their daughters to any crew crew member from the 'Stefan Batory' which would be a great honor for any Polish American family. I witnessed a couple such weddings during which a crew member was married off during his leave and remained for ever on that side of the Ocean. They were many secret love affairs just as occur in normal life and even divorces. I am not going to mention 'baby making' in Montreal, as this is self-explanatory.
Even now some thirty years later you can hear people referring to ' that guy from the 'Batory', the cook from the boat, the musician from the 'Stefan' and so on. Even today at a Polish American dancing evening you can hear 'pan' Stasio being proudly introduced as a former 'musician' from 'the Stefan Batory' which really drives me crazy. My madness reached its extreme when 'pan Stasio' started to ask me in detail who was the chief cook in such or such a year, then I suspected the 'Batory' Polish American band leader was in reality just an assistant cook and certainly not a future Paderwski or Rubinstein to gain immortal fame in the US or Canadian musical theatres.
(...)
Further on in the book I will mention the big Polish festivities, especially Christmas Eve. The ship's owner did his best to make us set sail on Christmas Eve. A perfect example of communist departure policy was to send the ship precisely at 16:00 LT on the 24th of December, when everyone in whole world born of a Polish mother was preparing the famous Christmas Eve Meal. All 336 crewmember willing to serve further for the Company to obey orders, but I was fascinated how furious the ground staff and the P.O.L. the Port Authorities, longshoremen and workers, even the top party customs and immigration officers treacted to this outrageous, inhuman decision. After all, everybody even the most active communist has his close family members: a mother or wife wanting to spend Christmas with them. I experienced this 'bitter P.O.L: ' present some three times during my career.
Crew alcoholism was not the only problem. Almost everyone, beginning from the First after God ending on the lowest rank steward assistant were programmed to fulfill their duties automatically; their soothed their desires for family links with the assistance of a small burning candle and a bottle of strong Polish vodka alone or in small groups. What about the ship itself? I remember an authentic statement of our Captain S.P.:
"... In the night when sheep are allegedly talking in a human voice. The 'Stefan Batory' manages to sail on its own. So far, no problem providing there are no Danish fishing boats nearby..."
The Danes like all Scandinavians like to drink in quantity.
I wish to add that our American Poles not always being able to hold Christmas celebrations with their 'ship's families' they had provided them with all incredible pre-Christmas celebration some two or three months in advance. I remember how well organized some American Poles were organizing a Christmas Eve festivities around the end of September in heat wave of some 35 degrees Celsius. Passing by the crew cabin area I could distinctly hear a famous Polish carol entitled 'Bog sie rodzi' ... (The Creator is Born).
It is no surprise that the 'Stefan Batory' was so successful the American Poles identified her as a 'part of floating Poland'. As a matter of curiosity it is worth noting that everyone complained about the communist system, and especially the active party members. We were continually warned about the 'ideologically damaging effect' which might be caused by the longer stay in the imperialistic Western Hemisphere. After hearing so much criticism about communist rule I was faced with the paradox to hear just a few days later one of the critics praising the wonderful work of comrade Edward Gierek in Poland. It was emphasized to us many times that there no poverty in Poland and, on the contrary in America, everything is low quality mass production for consumers and all the glamour pops like a soap bubble. How false these ship's 'red spiders' were!!! After all they were the ones to profit most of all from the hospitality of the American Poles.
(...)
The passengers themselves were class of their own. In the Eastbound journey, there were many elderly passengers who intended to return to Poland and to die in their homeland. Sadly, very many of them who were completely ruined financially and psychologically returned to the American continent after just three months. There were a few reasons for this sad state of affairs.The North America is for Poles, especially the older generation a land of brokers. As they were not very well versed in legal matters in America, nor was their standard of English sufficient; they relied 100 per cent on lawyers or agents to manage their affairs.They made golden business taking advantage of our poor Polish clients, who for example like the case of Mr. Chester Zielinski, aged 80, who tried to arrange for a villa to be built in Poronin (Polish Tatra).
The poor man tired and weary from his time in emigration returned to Poland to find no villa at all, nor the existence of the so called 'Bolek Repatriation and Housing Comp. Ltd.' the firm had disappeared forever leaving no traces. I can well remember Mr. Chester Zielinski telling me the story. It was a typical case of an elderly Pole coming back to his homeland after all by this stage he was a typical American. He carried with him a typical American experience; on top it he had unnecessarily imported the enormous fuel guzzler 'Chrysler'.
After disembarking in Gdynia our customs officers robbed him of most his honestly declared US Dollars.
Mr Chester Zielinski and his fresh looking wife I would give her forty, although in fact she was 79, but well conserved with the US cosmetics - believed phones in Poland worked just as well as in America. They lost their fortune on fruitless phone calls across the ocean of course, without any effects. Even the well-earned retirement benefits never reached them in Poland. In addition to this Mr. Chester's family in Poland asked him to give a helping hand with some urgent expenditures such as school fees, funeral expenses, his grandson's birthday etc. such an extent that after two weeks Mr. Chester and his wife were completely out of funds. The only success was to sell his fuel guzzler 'Chrysler to some Polish bishop who liked big cars and this enabled him to purchase the return passage for him and his wife on the 'Stefan Batory'.
It was a sad return for Mr. Chester and for many, many others. The Poland of the time was not in a position to 'serve' the returning emigrants from America. Nowadays, even Mr. Nowak-Jezioranski has returned to his homeland. But this guy has some more connections than our poor passengers off the 'Stefan Batory'. Returning to Mr. Chester Zielinski. Having shed many tears and abandoned by his family arrived in Gdynia by train and on boarding ship kissed its deck and a foretaste of return to American standards. He was returning without his 'Chrysler', without his villa in Poronin and without his dollar-consuming family. In the 70s' of the last century it considered in certain Polish circles that it was a patriotic duty to return home to Poland. How naïve.
Here is the last act of Mr. Chester's unfortunate story:
"...Officer, officer what am I going to do now in the USA? I wish to get any job, just to earn my insurance. I will go back to factory where I used to be a foreman and ask if they have a place for me as janitor..." He was now completely exhausted and disillusioned.
Fate took a different turn. After just a month from his return Mr. Chester Zielinski passed away without even being a janitor. Sad story. From many reasons we have to write the sad stories as well the happy ones. The fate of Poles in emigration is not always as rosy as it is painted. I can say something about it myself. In spite of limited alcoholism you have to remain sober and be psychologically strong. I realize that in various countries the relations between Poles and Poles in emigration vary. Closest to my heart is the Canadian American POLONIA. One of my Polish friends once told me: POLONIA SEMPER FIDELIS and this is the motto of the Chapter.
CHRISTMAS EVE ON BOARD OR HOW I NEARLY BECAME A COMMUNIST
Chapter 5
This is a true Christmas story, not at all reminiscent of Dickens. In the last chapter 'Beloved POLONIA' I mentioned the favorite game of the P.O.L. was to send the 'Stefan Batory' to sea precisely at 16:00hrs on Christmas Eve.
As you all know it's a day when all people of good will and especially Poles, with so much bitter experience of separations caused by wars, should celebrate this one special evening of the whole year accompanied by all the catholic and old-Polish traditions. In 1971 in my youth it was quite clear that even the most active communist party member would sit down together with his family for the Christmas celebrations, light up the Christmas tree for his children, distribute presents, sing carols and most important of all share the Holy Hostia which is an ancient Polish custom.
On three occasions I served Christmas Eve on board. In 1971 it coincided with my position as Entertainment Officer. Eryk Kulm, my predecessor held an honorary doctorate in curing me from sea-sickness with his unusual prescription by name 'Bisquit', French Cognac which proved to be the remedy to the 'Nelsonic's malaise'. The master himself got a sudden throat infection and had to take sick-leave and I was left alone with responsibility for the Entertainment Department. In connection with this I encountered many interesting events that day. In the first place it was Christmas Eve, but I was committed to take over Eryk's paperwork. I never cease to admire Eryk's capability as an accountant especially considering the high level of alcohol in his blood. Let me quote an authentic statement of his: 'My old friend, I have exceptionally a low level of blood in my alcohol'. Saying honestly with artistic seriousness, his facial expression was calm and he showed no signs of the true degree of his intoxication. Oh, my Master...
My real, great friend Henryk Szenk who was Chief Purser wished me good luck in the Entertainment Department. He reminded me that the Entertainment Officer's position was subordinate to Purser's Office and a career in Entertainment is not promising especially bearing in mind the large quantities of alcohol consumed by my predecessor Eryk. After calculating Eryk's alcoholic expenditures I had to agree with Henryk's opinion.
In Eryk's defense I have to add that he was never completely drunk, just slightly tipsy, at least in comparison to other high ranking officers. Even when Eryk was not completely sober he never picked up female passengers, and certainly not the crewmembers he always was flirting with a nice smile, but never committed marital betrayal. I strongly suspect even if he could he was simply too tired and drunk that he simply collapsed on his berth.
I inherited Eryk's position for some two months but had no idea how difficult a task it would be. The shift started at 10 a.m. and lasted until 3 a.m. or longer just to entertain my beloved passengers. The question was what for? Why...
My working day as an Entertainment Officer was quite different than in my previous voyages in the Purser's Office. I had to mobilize myself to meet the new challenges. Unfortunately, I was not aware that the Entertainment Officer has very few regular duties as per a normal duty roster, he is not interested in the ship's procedures and services but is always officially obliged to carry out the function of a 'senior top executive bar-tender' on the day of departure from of Gdynia. The very tiny entertainer's cabin, some 4 square meters described by me in previous chapters has been changed into a regular 'alcoholic quod'. In addition to inherited bottles of 'Bisquit' from Eryk Kulm, my predecessor my cabin was fully loaded with various alcoholic products starting with many kinds of vodkas, through to whiskies, cognacs etc. An intensive scent of alcohol influenced my whole nervous system. Each and every time I had to enter my cabin I was overpowered by the specific alcoholic 'aroma' however, I had to receive prominent guests with the regularity of the Time Machine Pendulum at the New York City Airport. 'Well, mister Entertainment Officer we have to celebrate your fresh promotion and I would very much welcome a gulp or two of the good Polish, 'patriotic' liquor' - exclaimed the Head of the Customs Office Mr. Alfons K.
The Reader will understand my scruples that any refusal of such of a proposition would have been equal to suicide. On your return to Gdynia the 'Black Brigade' of the Customs Office would have robbed of your own skin and everything you were carrying. Without any hesitation I presented my guest with a bottle of 'Wyborowa' and after just one hour was completely legless. The Chief Immigration Officer followed shortly after Alfons, the Custom Officer. This guy showed a lot of understanding toward my new, responsible post so important for the defense of Poland and other Warsaw Pact countries and still intensifying thirst. He, on the contrary, preferred whisky and I was only too happy to show my endless hospitality. After my 'military' friend left my cabin I suddenly felt unwell and fell onto my cabin berth. I did not have a moment to recuperate. I was brusquely awoken by a heavy rumor at my door. This could only be Henryk Szenk weighing some 140 kilos. His voice echoed through the door: 'Son of a gun, f.n bastards, drop into my cabin and help me out with this alcoholic party. I cannot get rid off these bastards from Immigration, Customs and party officials. They just will not leave. Come and help me, son of a gun!!!'. I heard this desperate plea from Henryk. How could I refuse to help him especially on Christmas Eve!
The only positive side of this drinking orgy was being able to lock my own cabin. At least then my cabin was not swimming in alcohol, but unfortunately, I still was. I jealously looked at my female colleagues in the Purser's Office the so called 'Puts d'Office;' at least they were able to concentrate quietly on their work and were not subject to the invasion by unwelcome alcoholic VIPs and other officials. This was the first time after six months of service on the ship that I was envious of the girls in the Purser's Office and posed myself the question if the entertainment officer on board the 'Stefan Batory' was simply a synonym of excessive drunkenness.
At the fresh age of 23 I wanted to achieve something more that a state of permanent intoxication. Unfortunately, as Henryk Szenk's training and that of all the others indicated that that was absolutely no chance to achieve a state close to soberity during my service on board. Henryk Szenk considerably older than Alek Janczarski would retreat to his cabin for some recuperation during passengers' embarkation. My task as an Entertainment Officer was clearly defined to take care of boarding passengers and the P.O.L prominence. Since the voyage took place in winter the well known season for storms we had had just around 320 passengers on board of whom some 95 per cent were Poles the rest were tireless sea freaks well equipped with American Express cheques. There was a constant pitching and rolling like hell with storms ranging from 10 to 12 on the Beaufort scale; so our ship's doctors were busy fixing broken legs and arms, so finally the cast plaster stock was coming to a rapid end.
Such were the winter voyages to New York. A few years later the P.O.L. suspended the New York trips in favor of excursions to the South. Reminiscing to previous chapters I am wondering if the passengers on the winter voyages were different to those I already described. Not really. Predominantly, they were from the Polish Mountain Region close to Nowy Targ already so well known in America as New Targ City. There were lots of youngsters going to visit their relatives in the USA. There were also a few beautiful interesting and rather distinguished prominent ladies, well educated aged somewhere between 40 and 50. I mobilized the ship's orchestra to play the 'Batory' March, the Polish National Anthem, the Dabrowski Mazurka. The soft, gentle music sounded similar to the well known carol of master Frederic Chopin 'Sweet Jesus in the Manger'.
I was still frustrated with the following question: 'Why did the departure have to be NOW and not just 15 hours LATER! Giving all our crew members including 'the red spiders', bigger or smaller party members, colleagues and non-communist party members, small flatterers and great friends the opportunity to spend Christmas Eve in peace with their families according to old Polish catholic tradition dating back some 1000 years; after all this is the sense of peace and family love. Why, oh, why?! This question remained unresolved, but a few hours later I experienced the first communist style Christmas Eve of my life. The Chief Purser Henryk Szenk wished us a merry Christmas and something extraordinary happened. He as a high ranking communist invited his staff and me to his cabin to partake of the Hostia (Polish Oplatek). These are his wonderful words: 'Son of a bitch (was not quoted on the occasion of Christmas Eve) he had second thoughts; I wish you health and happiness in your lives. Happy Christmas and may God give us a smooth passage without rolling and pitching all the way to New York and back son of a gun'. Henryk Szenk's famous quotes at precisely 16:15 LT on the 24 of December 1971.
Poor Henryk, who had participated in the II WW at sea, was not able to defend himself in his choice of words, yet his behavior was remarkably distinguished in traditional Polish style. I really did not know how to behave in my new position. I was overwhelmed by the grandiose dinner served at the famous Captain's Table which was more elaborate than would have been presented to Saudi monarch on his trip round the world. However, I managed to take advantage of an hour's rest in my predecessor Eryk's berth after having announced the ship's routing over the ship's public address system and greeted all passengers on board.
The ship's microphone was a relic from the technical maritime museum and the Institute of Tropical Illnesses in Amsterdam; and so my announcement was clear and free of all outside interference and any stammering was down to my personal state at the time. The old fashioned black microphone bulb covered in steel netting reminded me of the George Gershwin's Orchestra well before the II WW. Miss Stasia Kminikowska was the assistant to the Chief Steward and amongst her duties was to supervise the proper use of the ship's public address system. As most of the spokesmen were heavily intoxicated the microphone always emitted a strong aroma of alcohol! The very intelligent Stasia Kminikowska who carried just one narrow silver stripe on her uniform had actually graduated from Hotel Academy and post-graduate studies in the famous Jagiellonian University of Cracow, had also completed studies of so called 'economic socialism' and passed numerous exams specially intended for a job as purser. Despite all these qualifications she was a mere assistant to the always completely drunk Chief Steward. Yet, she was the most skilled of all in the Hotel Department, especially in accounting related functions. That was, with the exception of Henryk Szenk, who maybe had few university qualifications but held a far reaching thirty-five year long maritime experience in the job.
Let's quote Stasia: 'Don't worry about using the microphone Andrzej... this microphone is so highly disinfected by high percentage alcohol that you should not be afraid of catching the plague or typhus or even INFECTIOUS AMPHIBIA how clever she was.
Relying on Stasia's firm, analytic dictum I held the 'mic' firmly in my fist. Just a small fragment of my welcome announcement: 'Ladies and gentlemen; I heartily welcome you on board the 'Stefan Batory' on behalf of our captain Hieronim Majek and the crew on our voyage to New York City, we shall be sailing for twelve days without calling at any ports en route'.
The higher ranking officers gathered in front of the Chief Steward's office at 18:00 hrs sharp.
I was morally and physically supported by Henryk Szenk on my way to the Dining Area. Captain's Table where we proceeded in a 'spoon march' like fashion. The Captain's table although located in the middle of the Economy Dining Room in a very communist, democratic way was loaded with incredible opulence and a First Class Menu, which would have astonished even the most prestigious world's restaurants. As Henryk Szenk has very well informed me I was well aware even with my eyes closed which spoon or fork to grasp at what moment to which dish and how to handle it.
The Captain's Table celebrations especially during the time of service of Hieronim Majek lasted at least ninety minutes. Just imagine the incredible dullness of gazing into the faces of these 'red spiders'. The allowed topics of conversation were extremely limited. First of all, ship's delays and ship's pitching and rolling were not be mentioned; secondly it was no use talking about the weather it was enough to lean over the railing to find out the weather conditions; thirdly there was the taboo subjects of recently known women and the amount of alcoholic consumption; fourthly and finally you could not speak your mind on any topic as may later be summoned to the ship's communist party executive which would undoubtedly mean the end of your career.
Jan Rackman, the chief engineer would nowadays be classified as a 'pedophile', chased little girls, not yet physically and mentally mature. His own appearance was similar to that of an orangutan like the one I saw in Indonesia in inaccessible Kalimatan jungle. DANGEROUS BOREDOM. This is how I sum up the eating sessions.
It was a very specific day, Christmas Eve after all, and my very first appearance at the Captain's Round Table. The captain welcomes the high ranking officers. Nothing special and was followed by foraging through the menu cards, those elderly members installed their glasses on their red noses, some began to seek expert consultation with the Dining Chief Steward and half a dozen waiters apprentices. How they were attentively running around our 'Glorious Seven'. The ship's band played the traditional 'happy birthday' for those passengers who happened to have a birthday on that day. Miss Stasia Kminikowska gave an order to play traditional Polish carols performed by the famous Poznan Choir over the public address system. By now it was just 18:15LT. While the Captain was deeply concerned with the menu specialities, the Polish carol 'The Creator is Born' echoed from the background suddenly and unexpectedly some of the female passengers from the Mountain Regions started to approach our Captain. In doing so they dug deeply into their abdominal secret pockets to produce a 'holy supply' of Christmas Eve hostias.
Captain Hieronim Majek, renowned for his traditional delays to all destinations, stood up appropriately and partook of the hostia with each and every one of the mountain ladies, almost endlessly; these were followed by the guys who in addition to the hostia carried a bottle of Polish vodka in the other hand. There was almost a 'RELIGIOUS COUP d'ETAT' on board the 'Stefan Batory'. Completely stunned and red in the face the Captain reciprocated wishes for a happy Christmas to all those normal Poles on board who had maintained this tradition for centuries. What was the reaction of other guys at the Round Table? The Chief Steward, Jurek Grzeskowiak, who everyone considered a total idiot stammered something incomprehensible. Our ship's doctor was not only a 'red spider', but tinged with Judaism and the Catholic hostia for him was like drinking 'duck blood-soup' on the Sabbath. This poor guy was faced with the dilemma of religion and Jewish Law, the Talmud. SHALOM CHRISTMAS!!! as I was very happy to hear years later.
Henryk Szenk, despite his 300 pound net weight melted into the masses of passengers proceeding to kiss them all as in Christian Polish homes is the custom and has been for centuries. Henryk attracted my attention to follow him, although my position owing to my humble stature was more difficult as was drowning in the motherly busom of mountain Polish ladies. When the melody of the Christmas carols faded, the angry Chief Engineer stood up and said the following. I sincerely hope this individual found his place in the bottom drawer of the communist hell. 'I am an old communist party member and do not recognize the traditions of the 'religious cult' and do not intend to participate in these old fashioned habits'. He took out his old, fat wallet and started to stuff it with Christmas hostias just received from passengers. I never saw such a mean and greedy Polish communist millionaire in my whole career.
The mountain folk in particular were outraged by his behavior. How could he? That one, the fattest one with the four stripes on his sleeve refused the hostia?! How could he? After all that is our tradition. At least the Captain did well to join us and follow old Polish traditions. Our poor Jewish 'doc' was perplexed keeping his wallet in his left hand and the hostia in his right. He swiftly sank in the broad arms of the Polish mountain ladies. These ladies resembled a wild mountain stream flowing and catching everything on its way.
For the first time on board ship I was witness of deep disapproval. Some of the half 'legless' male passengers wanted to lynch Rackman. The watchful Dining Room Steward Michal Hrynkiewicz-Putek peacefully led away these rebellious guys. Something in the depth of my heart whispered - was this possibly the forerunner of the 'SOLIDARNOSC' - Solidarity movement in Poland expressed in the form of striving for religious tolerance. This was just 1971 precisely 12 months after the December Uprising of the shipyard workers and some 8 years before Cardinal Wojtyla was elected to the Papal Throne and ten years before Lech Walesa's Solidarity Trade Union crushed communism.
This Christmas hostia remains in my mind forever. It triggers in me some specific thoughts which constantly appear when reminiscing the 'Stefan Batory' years whenever the first star emerges on the horizon during the Holy Evening. So much about the hostia. I have to admit the ship's Christmas Eve dinner was beneath my expectations. It did not taste like home. Perhaps my thoughts were some hundreds of miles south with my family in Warsaw. The subtitle of this story originates from the 'Christmas Tale' of Charles Dickens.
I wish to remind our Readers that this 'Christmas Tale' tells us a lot about the past and future. This Christmas on board ship was a travesty whereas all my previous Christmases had been spent with my family in Warsaw and sadly I was deprived of sharing the hostia with my family for many, many years to come. The Christmas Eve's scandal caused by Rackman is in retrospect a forerunner of my prophecy of things to come in my homeland.
All this was concentrated around the Captain's Table. (...)
ICEBERG - THE POSITIVE EFFECTS OF ALCOHOLISM
Chapter 11
(...) After my personal experience in Indochina I became more aware of imminent danger, even life threatening and paid more attention to potential risks around me. Many years later these thoughts of sudden danger transformed themselves into my seminar entitled 'Fear of Flying' which was dedicated to the dangers caused by the element 'AIR'; here of course, I refer the dangers presented by the element 'SEA'.
I would like to mention those people who contributed so greatly to my understanding and coping with a fearless approach towards these two elements e.g. general Pat Mitchell and my friend Andrzej Sz., the Third Officer aboard the tss 'Stefan Batory'. I remember like yesterday our get together in my 'pilot's cabin' to discuss maritime and aviation navigational problems. Among my guests was Andrzej Sz.
The next day the ship pitched enormously. Andrzej's watch was from twelve noon till 16:00 HRS. I do not remember that the previous evening's drinking session was particularly excessive; I would say it was quite moderate. Nina and Nela had left at a reasonable hour and I went for a walk with my colleagues continuing our discussion about navigation. I remember, I wished Andrzej all the best for his birthday the next day. Our meeting always began with breakfast in the officers' mess. The night passed without any significant events.
We were all anxious to see the coastline of Canada. When we leant across the railings to catch sight of Canada; all we could see through the dense fog were a few lumps of ice. It is not true that they are as big as Mount Blanc but, of course, you must not forget that only one tenth of an ice-berg shows itself above sea level. The rest is dangerously concealed. Just to catch sight of a tip of an iceberg was a challenge even for an Indian from the 'Sioux' tribe, named the Falcon's Eye to detect it...
We, unfortunately, did not have such insight. We had excellent navigators who mainly relied on such traditional methods as the Captain's nose, who spent most of the time without sleep on the Bridge. We also had electronic equipment, which registered changes of temperature above and below sea level, and a 'RAWAR' radar an enchanting miracle of technology of that time, which should prewarn us of icebergs in the vicinity. Unfortunately, the radar was not 100 per cent reliable in fog, in most cases we had two or three sailors on the lookout who would shout at the last minute quick you guys, turn here, I can see an iceberg!!! I witnessed and even took photographs of icebergs and felt their coldness on my back. But, truly none of colleagues, nor I were afraid of them. At least nobody showed their fear except dear Nela Drygalska who was constantly worried about her three children in Gdynia, Poland. So this day was like any other. Around twelve noon, the Captain stepped down from the Bridge and went to his cabin to refresh himself. The sea had calmed down, and even this awful 'Newfoundland' fog had retreated and given way to the May sun. We had a feeling the ocean crossing was coming to its end. We were approaching Montreal, which was for pursers an enormous challenge without much time for recovery.
We were sitting in the officer's mess and Miss Helena, our delightful stewardess was serving us with soup. As the temperature outside in May amounted about 4 or 5 degrees Celsius the hot, spicy soup was very welcome.
At precisely 12:14 Local Time (according to the navigational calculation based on the angle of the sun at 12:00 noon in relation to the ship's position) something extraordinary happened. Suddenly, the 'Stefan Batory' was laying portside leaning at an angle of some 60 degrees. I heard the exact wording of the III Mate's order to the man at the wheel at a much later date comfortably sipping 'Wybrowa' vodka. One thing is clear however, that these words saved our lives. ...'Steer 60 degrees portside' must have more or less been his order.
Unfortunately, our soups could not be saved and were splashed all over our uniforms, passengers in the Grand Restaurant Saloon were speckled with all sorts of colours resulting from a mixture of salads, soups and sauces.
Our Ship's Management was not exempt from this stainy and oily experience as also their parade uniforms looked like clowns' academy scholars after this sudden, unexpected ship's maneuver. All unfixed articles and larger objects were suddenly catapulted by the sudden force of kinetic energy and were smashed beyond recognition. Now, all that all remained was the final seemingly inevitable crash and the end of the 'Stefan Batory'. We could hear some crunching sound coming from the inner sections of the ship, but fortunately for us all, there was no life threatening structural damage of the skin. Thanks be to God, otherwise there would be no way to write this novel. The ship just leaned at a very dangerous angle. After long four or five minutes the ship started to revert to its normal stable position. Having returned to balance, we pursers quickly ran down to the passenger's premises to try to assist them after this terrifying incident. On a way we met the Captain and the Chief Officer running towards the Captain's Bridge after all everything had returned to normal and was no need to rumor panic. Everything we were predestined to ...had already happened.
The appropriate action had been initiated by the III Navigation Officer and so our normal life on board could continue. There was a heap a passengers lying in front of our Purser's Office, those who had not been eating at the time. From the ship's boutique, all the luxurious and expensive articles such as golden watches, bracelets, jewelers, Chanel perfumes No. 5, toys had been scattered at random throughout the Main Hall. It was just like a scene from the 'Titanic' film. Everywhere was debris and broken glass and the sound of people complaining in at least six languages. So we got down to work. Those visibly incapacitated were assisted to the ship's hospital and some of the worse cases were cast bandaged by our medical staff. Our main job was to avoid panic.
The passengers were fully in their rights to demand an explanation for the incident and seek compensation.
The whole initial action took us some two or three hours. Our explanation which amounted to 'a near collision' with an iceberg was totally comprehensible for the British passengers as an island nation.
The remaining nationalities were rather more skeptical. Our Polish countrymen, mainly from the Southern Mountain Areas prayed to the Madonna of Jasna Gora (Poland), Our National Shrine. And the young Polish guys drank their relief in the 'Polish Inn' on board. The structural loss was nonetheless considerable comparable with the storm we experienced earlier in November 1972. The Captain was in a long conversation with the III Officer on the Bridge. Once the whole affair had calmed down we could continue our voyage, but the Captain's Farewell Ball was a half measure attraction this time. Hardly surprising. The voyage was continued to its expected destination Montreal.
The old 'Batory' experienced a similar collision with a small iceberg in 1964 and had to be docked in Halifax for three days for make-shift repairs.
The genius maneuver of our III Officer who at the time was not exactly sober, saved our lives and well being, maybe if events had turned out differently... but there again on board ship like on an aircraft you never speculate what MIGHT HAVE BEEN. The devil never sleeps.
(...)
That was a hard day's work. The Latin famous proverb 'MEMENTO MORI' became increasingly evident in our day-to-day life. Amongst the crew we would say ' WATCH OUT! CLOUD SEVEN IS CLOSE'. You may encounter it soon if anything worse were to happen or the navigator lacked a reflex action. This case had its bureaucratic follow-up. As I already mentioned in the last chapter any crewmember under disciplinary action was subject to public disclosure. The excerpt from the warning letter was displayed for public view.
We knew that Captain had spoken with our III Mate and the discourse had been lengthy accompanied by the presence of the ship's communist party leader. Everybody returned to their duties. The VI Navigation Officer, a young boy sat down to type something which took him several hours into the night. We had no idea of its contents until 09:00 HRS next morning when it was officially displayed on the Crew Information Board. Let me quote as far as I remember:
Excerpt No.1
Quoted for the Ship's Log-Book date, hour, precise geographical location.
'Today, the Captain in the presence of the ship's communist party leader had heard the accused III Navigation Officer Andrzej Sz. and punished him with an official warning with an entry into his personal act for carrying out duties under the influence of alcohol.'
Below were signatures and the ship's stamp, etc.
Excerpt No. 2
Quoted from the ship's Log-Book date, hour, precise geographical location.
Today, the Captain in the presence of the ship's communist party leader praised the III Navigation officer for rescuing the 'Stefan Batory' together with its crew, passengers and load in approximate geographical position.
Below were signatures and ship's stamps, etc.
I never witnessed such Byzantine method of treating human beings. The Draconian punishment contrasted with extremely low appreciation of life saving deeds. Even though the officer had not been completely sober he had carried out his job on the Bridge perfectly, with complete success in face-to-face of the calamitous events 'MEMENTO MORI WATCH OUT CLOUD SEVEN IS CLOSE'. Alcoholism had always been a serious problem on board ship (any ship) and it is pointless to analyze it more closely. As was always the case in communist Poland a warning was considered the gravest sin whereas any praise was quickly forgotten. A glance into his personal files ashore would only focus on these negative aspects.
After returning to Dynic Andrzej, our III Mate was considering leaving the 'Stefan Batory' for good and changing to a cargo vessel. Regarding my own personal future he was looking towards a career in aviation. On one of the next trip across Atlantic we realized Andrzej was no longer serving on board our ship and he never returned.
After all it was a good idea of mine to write about the positive effects of alcoholism, otherwise, most likely I would have never experienced the wonderful get to-gethers in the DC-10 Pilot's Cabin and you, Dear Readers, would never have had the opportunity to read these adventures. Our ship continued to a have the reputation of the old 'Batory' as a LUCKY SHIP and additionally was blessed with GOOD AND FORTUNATE NAVIGATORS.
So, we conclude the chapter entitled 'Iceberg - the positive effects of alcoholism'. All navigators who cross the North Atlantic between April and July must be prepared to encounter an iceberg on his route. Our dear friend, Andrzej showed remarkable sailor's instinct and a phenomenally quick reaction. We are all enormously grateful to Andrzej for saving our lives and health although he was slightly under the influence of alcohol. The delicate balance between punishment and reward was totally out of proportion considering what he really deserved. The punishment was excessively high, bearing in mind it could never have been implicated had we landed on 'CLOUD SEVEN' Latin: MEMENTO MORI.
