I was on a sightseeing trip on an old steam ship, taking us around
the large, beautiful archipelago which formed a barrier full of
islands of various sizes and landscapes between the town and the
open sea. After having had something to eat, I noticed that it
was possible to have a look inside the engine-room so I followed
the ladder down there.
The engineer was very keen on telling me about all the details
of the working engines, and he showed me how he had to lubricate
some parts with oil every 15 minutes.
It was interesting to study the machine indeed, but the fireman
caught my interest even more. Or rather, the "firewoman" did,
because it was a young woman (probably 25 years, I guessed), who,
dressed in long jeans shorts and a white, thin shirt with naked arms,
worked in the heat in front of the boilers, filling their hot, hungry
mouths with coal with a spade.
At one time, she took a break and took a few steps towards where
I was standing while the engineer was talking about the pistons which
were moving up and down without interruption. I noticed that she
was black around her mouth, not as black as her hands were from the
coal of course, but clearly black. Not a good idea, I thought, to
dry the sweat from one's face with those hands, but then I realized
she wasn't at all black like that over the forehead or the cheeks -
just around the lips. And, even more funny, along the sides of the nose.
Some fantasies started to work inside my head. The coal... the dust...
could it maybe be...
Yes, it could... at least maybe. Her body shook from a few hacks,
but she coughed them with her mouth shut. I waited for her to start
to cough more properly, but nothing.
I left the engine-room without having got any proof of that it
was a deep cough, caused by all the coal in the air where she was
working, that had made her put her hands up over her mouth, and
occasionally over her mouth and nose. I wanted to get down there
again and tried to bring up some questions to ask the engineer
about the machinery, but I knew too little about steam engines,
and about engines in general, to know what to ask for without sounding
stupid. I was standing on the foredeck, feeling the wind in my face and
thinking about this when I heard a click to the left of me. There she
was, lighting a cigarette with her black hands. The white cigarette
paper was soon black from her fingers. She noticed I was looking at
her fingers and she laughed a little.
- I'll wash my hands when I've come home tonight, she joked,
talking out some smoke. Before I had answered, the turned her head
away and cleared her throat.
- Just a quick cigarette before she needs more fuel, she said
and dragged deeply on the cigarette.
- But I guess smoking could hardly be banned down there, could it?,
I asked while she filled her lungs with smoke.
- No, of course not, but I need some fresh air, she said and started
to cough the smoke out. She hacked for a while without really inhaling,
then suddenly inhaled deeply and coughed with three loud, hard hacks before
spitting into the sea.
- Smoker's cough?, I joked.
- Firewoman's cough rather, she smiled and dragged again on the
cigarette, deeper than the last time. - The coal down there makes
me cough my lungs up, she continued with the smoke in her lungs.
- I never saw you cough when I was paying a visit, I said.
- I was taking a cough break then, she laughed and exhaled the
smoke. - Sometimes, I shovel with one hand, coughing in the other,
she went on with smoke still coming from inside her.
- I guess it's a reflex to use the hand, more than a necessity,
she smiled and shragger her shoulders. - And sometimes (she dragged
on her cigarette again and inhaled), when it gets bad, I put the
shovel away and try to kill the cough by pressing both my hands
up over my nose (she turned her head and made a long mixed exhale).
She finished the cigarette and said it was time to work again and she was gone. I could almost feel the smell of coal and cigarette smoke a few seconds afterwards, but maybe it was just my imagination. Still, I didn't know what reason I should invent for going down there another time, and the more eager I got, the harder it was to dream something up. I remember I had talked to the engineer about a steam ship my uncle used to work at when I was a kid. It was a large, almost famous one, and the engineer had thought he recognised the name, but he wasn't sure.
A few minutes, later she came back to me. The skin around her lips
was even more black now, and her nose was really black too. Also, her face
was a bit red.
Jim, you know the engineer, she said, then started to hack with
deep hacks. She put her black hand over her mouth, inhaled and coughed
intensively. She coughed and coughed for almost a minute, and the
last seconds she was pressing both her hands up over her nose and mouth,
and bent her body forward. She was breathing heavily when continuing,
and her face was clearly red now.
- He suddenly remembered that boat you were talking about and asked
me to find you, he wanted to hear more about your uncle, he said, he
was so eager.
I followed her down the ladder, and she got another coughing fit on
the way down. She couldn't use her hands to cover her mouth until
she had got down on the floor, but there was no way for her to keep
her coughing fit back.
All the time when I was talking old steam ships with the enthusiastic
engineer, she was coughing and shoveling, coughing and shoveling.
Unfortunately, we were soon back in town and I had to leave. I remained standing on the quay, waiting for her but there was no sign of her. After around 15 minutes, I could hear her cough, but I couldn't see her. She must be somewhere on the deck, but at the opposite side from the quay. Before leaving, I booked a ticket for next week's trip too...